Aftermath
by dawndouglas2002
Summary: Picks up immediately after the mini-series ends. What I think happens next. Cain/DG
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: **_Not mine, not making any money. This is entirely Jaime's fault for getting me addicted to this mini-series. I can't believe I'm writing this, but I can't get it out of my brain! Ok, this has been edited from its original version. I like to write in first person, but I originally posted this in third person. Since I'm going to continue it, I edited it and made it first person to make it easier for myself from this point forward. Each chapter will probably have a different POV just because that's what I like to do. There have been a few changes, but nothing Earth-shattering. What do you think—better, worse? _

**Chapter One**

_Cain's POV_

I let my eyes sweep around the room, taking in the frenzied movement around me.

Somehow when the dust settled, responsibility had fallen on my shoulders. Jeb had known how to lead his men into battle—he'd spent eight years learning to do that—but once the battle was over, my son had been at a loss. He and his resistance fighters had turned to me, and I reluctantly started giving orders.

Triage and a place for healings had been carved out, prisoners—mostly defeated long coats, but also members of the sorceress' entourage—were organized and marshaled into holding areas. And most importantly, a secure perimeter was established around the tower that now housed the entire royal family of The O.Z.

It was controlled chaos, chaos I controlled, but truth to tell I couldn't care less. What _I _cared about was still upstairs. I'd stormed onto the balcony, Glitch, Raw, and Toto close behind me, in time to see the royal family of the O.Z. embracing. Holding out my uninjured arm to keep the rag-tag bunch backing me up at bay, I'd looked just long enough to make sure that DG was alright, then backed slowly out of the balcony and chamber, pulling the door closed behind us.

"Let's give them some time," I told the others gruffly. "Plenty for us to do downstairs."

"Sure. That's a good idea. I should—I should—I should—"

I reached over and smacked Glitch on the back, wincing a little as pain flared through my shoulder. It was a flesh wound, but damn if it didn't hurt like the three Hells.

Glitch's eyes bugged a little at the whack, but he shook his head sheepishly. "Thanks—I needed that. I should get the castle staff together. Get rooms and food for tonight sorted out. Is that a good idea, Cain?"

I nodded slightly in answer. "Good plan, Zipperhead. Put them up high on one of the secured floors." Looking back, I guessed that's how it started—my first mistake. Then I went and made it worse, poor dumb bastard that I was. A few seconds after Glitch scuttled off, Raw interrupted my thoughts.

"Raw help Tin Man?" The viewer had asked, his growly voice tentative.

"No—there's lots more hurt worse than me. Get the other viewers from the prison and any one with experience healing together. We need to start tending to the wounded fast."

He'd given my shoulder one last look, but Raw nodded finally in acceptance of the order. "Tin Man come with Raw. Have healer bandage." I had grudgingly acquiesced, answering questions and giving reluctant instructions the whole time my shoulder was cleaned and wrapped.

Once people figured out there was someone willing to take charge, they'd just kept coming to me with questions, for direction, looking for someone to tell them what to do with themselves. That had been a few hours ago, though, and at this point I could admit to myself that I was getting antsy.

I'd seen DG well enough to know she made it out of the ordeal, but now I wanted to check on her, talk to her, find out for sure that she was a fine as she'd looked from a distance.

"Hey, Tin Man."

At the sound of her voice, I stiffened and turned. It wasn't often I was caught off guard, but this little slip of a girl seemed more adept at it than most. She was standing behind me, clothes a mess, hair wild, skin so pale it looked translucent. There were deep, bruising circles under her eyes, but her generous lips were tilted up in a small smile, and her expression, though weary, was contented.

I was so relieved to see her, I scowled.

That just made her grin widen—impertinent kid.

"What are you doing down here by yourself?" I asked gruffly. "We don't know for sure that the tower's secure. You should have—"

"Cain, I'm fine," she interrupted softly. "I wanted to see you. I was—worried."

"Well, you've seen me. Glitch's rounded up some people to make up rooms for tonight. Lets find him and get you settled." My words came out more brusque than he intended, but DG looked fragile—more so than usual—and I didn't like it one bit.  She'd gone through an ordeal, and she should be resting, damn it.

"I know. He and some of the maids came upstairs. My parents and Az are probably already sleeping," she replied on a sigh.

"Why aren't you?" I asked bluntly.

DG rolled her eyes. "Because, at the risk of repeating myself here, I. Wanted. To. Check. On. You."

"Well, you can see for yourself I'm in one piece. Now lets go find Glitch and figure out where to put you." The kid might have been exhausted, but that was enough to get her dander up regardless. The site of her set jaw actually went a long way toward making me feel better about how she was doing.

"Put me?" She demanded, voice incredulous. "I don't need to be PUT anywhere."

I cut her off with a wince before she could really build up steam—I'd forgotten how touchy women sometimes got about word choice. A few annuals in a metal suit would do that to a man. "Don't get your britches in a knot. I didn't mean anything by it. Let's find out where your room is," I amended.

DG looked only slightly mollified, but she nodded. By the fact that she'd let it go at that, I understood that she was even more tired than she looked. I closed the distance between us almost without realizing it and slung an arm around her shoulders, wordlessly supporting her. If I was smart I'd keep my hands to myself, but then I've never claimed to be a smart man.

DG sagged against me just a little and laid her head on my shoulder. My worry ratcheted up another notch.

"Keep this up, and all you men will be expecting hugs," she joked tiredly.

"Yeah, well, don't let it go to your head, but I like you better than most of my other men."

There was a heartbeat of silence before she replied, her voice suddenly shy. "I like you, too."

Something moved in my chest, and I swallowed heavily. By Ozma, I needed to get myself together. Moving away from her a little, I patted DG awkwardly once on the shoulder and then dropped my hand, cutting off contact that was giving me ideas a man shouldn't be having about a girl almost the same age as his son.

"Give it time. You'll change your mind." I replied gruffly. "Now, enough stalling. Let's get you upstairs, Kid. Do you know where you're supposed to be?"

"Actually, yeah—the bedrooms are a little strange, but Glitch said he put me in one not too far from my parents and Az. It's a long walk back up."

"Then we'd better not waste any time." I said firmly and signaled Jeb, who jogged over as soon as he saw the motion.

My son's face was streaked with dirt, but he looked liked like a man on a high. A successful battle would do that to you. Jeb took a second to nod at DG before he acknowledged me. "Great job, princess. Whatever you did up there, you're a real hero."

DG winked at him. "Piece of cake."

Jeb looked uncertain. I understood the feeling—half the time I didn't have a clue what she was saying. Why she'd be talking about cake right now was beyond me. "Well, uh—still—thanks." He turned his attention to me. "You needed me, Dad?" 

"I'm going to take the princess upstairs and get her settled. We need to get a shift of men rested so they can take over in a few hours. Glitch should be working on setting up temporary quarters in the ballroom one floor up. Send at least a third of the troops for a four-hour rest as soon as it's finished."

Jeb was frowning. "Dad, no one's going to want to—"

"I understand. Adrenaline is high right now, but we can't have everyone crashing at once. This has been a long damn day. One-third resting now—it's an order, not a suggestion." My voice left no room for argument. Like I told DG before the battle started, I'd led military actions before, and I knew what it was like directly after, but this was important. Order had to be established immediately, even with the troops. When Jeb nodded at me and said he'd take care of it, I turned back to DG, confident that things down here would handle themselves for a bit. "Let's go, Kid."

By the third flight of stairs, I realized that DG wasn't going to make it up on her own steam. She'd slowed down with every step. Her face was set in a line of grim determination, but I knew it wouldn't hold out much longer. Sheer force of will could only push a body so far.

"Boy," DG panted, not able to keep herself from sagging a little against the railing. "What this place needs is an elevator. These steps are murder."

I frowned. I wasn't sure what an elevator was, but I thought I understood what she meant—the machine that took you upstairs instead of climbing them yourself. "The lift system was damaged in the fighting. As soon as we figure out who's qualified to fix it, we'll get it back up and running."

I assumed I'd translated correctly, because closing her eyes for half a second, I could see DG mentally shoring herself up to continue the climb. I was beside her before she could. Not stopping to think about what I was doing, I slipped my arms underneath her and cradled her against my chest. There was a slight noise of surprise, but almost before she stiffened, DG relaxed into my arms. I'd been assiduous in putting as much of her weight as I could on my good arm, but I still had to bite back a wince at the slight strain her legs put on my other shoulder. I was careful not to let DG see the change in my expression, though. I knew her well enough to know if she thought she was hurting me in the least, she would insist on getting to her room on her own speed, even if she had to crawl. The princess was stubborn that way.

"I can walk," she protested.

"Now why would you want to deprive me of the pleasure of carrying you? That's pretty insensitive after everything we've been through." I kept my voice light, teasing, and was rewarded when a strangled laugh slipped out of DG's mouth. In a way, it was true. The pleasure I got from having her in my arms far outweighed the slight discomfort it caused. _Not that I should be thinking like that,_ I told myself firmly.

"You are such a dork," she distracted me when she spoke, a smile clear in her voice. There was a heartbeat of silence during which she nestled herself more securely against my chest, and when she continued, her tone had changed and was as solemn as I'd ever heard it. "Thank you."

I didn't know what the heck a 'dork' was, but from the soft glow in her eyes, I figured it must be a pretty high compliment. And the way she fit against me, especially since she'd shifted, well, it had me thinking more of those inappropriate thoughts. I couldn't remember for certain, but best I could recall from my Ozian history, the youngest princess was about 21 annuals old. _She might be 22 annuals_, my mind added helpfully.

Perfect. Here my mind was getting worked up over a single year that didn't really matter at all. I was _38_ annuals old. I could be off by five or six annuals, and I'd _still _be too old for her. I glanced down at her when I felt movement again. She'd closed her eyes and was lightly rubbing her cheek back and forth against the side of my duster. _Great—like that she looked about 12 annuals._

With a fierce internal growl, I forced myself to concentrate on the stairs and ignore the distraction of the woman in my arms. Only about seven flights to go—I was already tired, so maybe by the time I made it all the way upstairs, my body would be too exhausted to think about her anymore. When I shifted her to round the newel post at the next landing, I felt her breast press against my chest again and bit back a groan.

Forgetting seemed unlikely—highly unlikely.

"Time to wake up, Kiddo. You have to tell me where we're going." I paused as DG's eyes fluttered open. She looked disoriented, and I was glad. Maybe that meant she couldn't see the tension in my face that was a result of holding her for so long. We were at the floor Glitch had made rooms for the royal family on, but now I needed to know where to go from here. If I'd thought to ask her before I picked her up, I would have let the princess keep sleeping.

"H-huh?"

"Ride's over—you fell asleep."

DG blushed and squirmed, and I eased her legs down, careful not to let her brush against the physical evidence of how much I'd enjoyed holding her. I didn't let go of her until I was sure her legs would support her, and even then, I kept one arm around her shoulders just in case. I told myself it was just to make sure she didn't fall. And when the little voice in my head told me I was full of Marmaluke dung, I managed to ignore it.

"I can't believe I fell asleep while you were carrying me upstairs. I'm so sorry." She was shaking her head to clear it, voice rueful.

"Not a problem, Kid. You've had a busy few days. I think you've earned a little cat nap."

"You've had some pretty busy days, too." She protested then gestured down a long, dark hallway. "My room is down there, fourth door on the right."

I felt myself looking up and down the hall skeptically, taking a second to nod at the guards placed like bookends on either side of the staircase. I recognized one of them from Jeb's camp. They were both studiously not watching DG and I, and I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that ten minutes from now everyone in the tower would know I'd carried the princess to her room. I couldn't be bothered with worrying about that right now. "Not exactly a very welcoming guest wing, is it?" I joked.

DG twisted her head up to look at me and laughed lightly. "I don't think the witch subscribed to Better Homes and Gardens." At my baffled blink, she sighed. "I swear, my sparkling sense of sarcastic humor was much more effective when people understood what I was talking about."

I decided it would be safest not to answer at all.

When they reached the door DG indicated, she reached forward and started to open it. My hand on her arm stopped her, and she looked up at me with curiosity clear in her eyes.

"Let me go first, Kiddo," I said flatly.

"Glitch and the castle servants went through the room al—"

"Just humor me," I interrupted. I trusted Glitch as much as I trusted anyone, but when it came to DG's safety, I wasn't taking any chances. _Not that there was anything—special—about that. I'd feel the same way about any member of the royal family. _I managed to convince myself that was true in spite of the fact that I hadn't so much as looked at the rooms of her parents and sister. DG acquiesced with a slight roll of her eyes, and I pushed the door open. I stepped inside, indicating with a hand gesture that she should stay in the hall in view of the guards while I made sure the room was secure.

It didn't take long. I was surprised to note that the chamber, while nicely appointed, wasn't particularly grandiose. A lamp burned dimly on a low dresser next to a large bed that took up most of the space. It didn't do much to light up the room, though, probably because everything was done in shades of black and dark green. It was gloomy and oppressive, and I couldn't imagine DG was going to be comfortable there. Two doors were positioned side by side on the wall across from the entrance, but I wanted to get the princess out of the hall as quickly as possible. I could check those out as soon as I had her safely shut in the room. I turned around and stepped back outside.

"It's clear, Princess. You can come on inside."

DG was leaning heavily against the wall, looking at me through eyes barely open. "God, it's even worse than Azkadellia's room," she commented as she stepped through the door.

"Are she and your parents in rooms close by?" I asked, turning a heavy metal lock. I was curious about where Zipperhead had stowed the other royals. 

DG shook her head. "Not exactly—Glitch put them in, I guess it's a suite—two rooms connected—at the other end of the hall." A shadow passed over her features. "Az collapsed. Mother said she's just weak, but—" The girl broke off suddenly. "God, I don't know what I'll do if she doesn't—she was having these dreams. Horrible nightmares. And it's my fault. Can you imagine living trapped in yourself for _years._"

A horrified look crossed her features. "Jesus, I guess you can, and that's my fault, too. I—"

Almost before I realized what I was doing, I'd crossed the room and wrapped DG in my arms. I can take a lot, but the guilt and pain on her face, I couldn't live with. I've never been good with words, but I did the best I could to make her understand that what had happened to the O.Z. wasn't her fault. "Don't you dare think like that, DG. You _saved_ your sister, and you saved me. The past is the past, Kid. When it counted, you were there."

She held herself stiff for a heartbeat, then all at once seemed to melt into me. "It was so hard to see her like that. To see the Queen and my father, both so shaken. Cain, I don't even know them. They're strangers—strangers who've lived in their own private Hells for _15 years_ because of me. I had this wonderful life with my parents—well with the robots I thought were my parents, and they've been—"

The tears were coming faster now, soaking the front of my shirt, and it seemed like speech was beyond her at this point. My heart cracked a little at the pain in DG's voice, but I didn't know how to fix it. I tried again, though, because I wasn't willing to just stand there and let her hurt. Too bad Raw wasn't here—he'd know what to say to help her, damn it. "Shh…it's ok now. You're here now, and you're strong, kiddo. Strong enough to help your family get through this."

I guess I said something right, because DG sniffled and looked up at me, smiling through her tears. "You know, the whole time I was in that room with them, I could hear you saying something like that. I think it's what helped hold me together.

Looking down, I studied her face intently, relieved she wasn't crying anymore. "Good—then you won't mind to listen to me again. You need to get some rest." At the princess' grimace, I sighed. Nothing was ever easy with this girl. "What's the problem?"

"I'm filthy. I'm never going to be able to sleep like this."

Now this, I might be able to help with, at least I thought I could. "Well, I don't know much about palace guest rooms and such, but I'm willing to bet one of those doors has a washroom, and the other one is a closet. Why don't you go wash up, and I'll see if there's anything you can change into. Sound good?"

"Sounds great—if you find me pajamas, I'll love you forever." And with that she stood on her tiptoes and lightly kissed my cheek. Ozma give me strength, I thought as I forced myself to step away from her and open the doors. Thankfully, it turned out I knew what I was talking about, and in just a few minutes, the princess was in the wash room making use of a basin of water and some cloths. The closet didn't have much in the way of clothing that would be appropriate for DG—it looked like this was a room usually given to a man—but there was a long black shirt she could use.

I tapped lightly on the washroom door and turned my back when she opened it to take the garment. From her light laugh, she thought I was being old fashioned, but I couldn't make myself care. I was at the edge of my control as it was—the last thing I needed was to accidentally catch a glimpse of something I shouldn't. Once she had the shirt in her possession, DG finished quickly. When she came back out, I had turned around and was sitting in a chair close to the bedroom door. I'd expected her to have on the shirt _over_ her britches. When I realized she'd decided to just go without pants, I almost fell out of my seat.

Jumping up, I rushed to turn around again, not that it mattered anymore. I'd already gotten a long look at a pair of alluring, pale legs. _How the heck did they get so damned smooth?_ My mind demanded, the question slipping out past the mental clamps I was trying to lock it down with. DG was laughing again, and the sound sent another bolt of lust through my stomach. Jumping Jitterbugs, she _was_ trying to kill me.

"What the heck is your problem, Tin Man? You're acting like you've never seen legs before."

"It's not appropriate," I ground out the reply through clenched teeth.

There was another musical laugh, and then the sound of the mattress sinking and covers rustling. "You need to lighten up," she said. "But it's all clear now. I'm thoroughly covered."

Somehow the knowledge that her legs were covered up didn't exactly help. The image of them had been burned permanently into my brain. If I were smart and wanted to avoid a royal execution, I'd high tail it out of here as fast as I could find someone to take over charge of things downstairs. I knew that wasn't going to happen, though. The idea of leaving DG and setting out to pick up the pieces of my life was enough to make me physically ill. I'd stay with her until she didn't need me anymore—even if it killed me. I could tell myself it was because of the promise I'd made to the Mystic Man, but I knew I'd be lying. I wasn't staying for him anymore—I was staying for her.

Of course, death might come sooner rather than later. As it was, my shoulder was aching, I was exhausted, my body was hot and hard, and there was no relief in sight for any of it. Dying might have been a better choice. I wished for a bed, but knew I wasn't going to see one anytime soon. Two guards a hallway away weren't near enough as far as I was concerned. I was going to pull up a chair and park myself right in front of her door for the night. As soon as I could escape from the vision of her bare legs, that was.

Holding my shoulders stiff, I didn't acknowledge DG's teasing. "Did you need anything else?" I asked formally, still facing the door.

Her laughter died in an instant. "You're—leaving?" Her voice held a note of panic that took me by surprise. "Where are you going?"

I turned around instinctively as soon as I realized how upset she was. DG wasn't tucked safely in bed anymore. She was on her knees in the center of the mattress, looking frantic. That was _almost _enough to make me not notice the creamy tops of her thighs or the way she'd left the top few buttons of the shirt open. Almost.

My voice softened at the sight of her. "Hey, I'm not going far. I'll be right outside if you need anything, I'm a yell away."

DG was shaking her head. "No. Please—I can't be alone here. I—" Her voice broke. "I _can't_."

"Kid—DG—I can't stay in this room. It's not right. You're a princess, and I'm—"

Before I finished, she was off the bed and—Glinda have mercy—plastered against me again. "Then I'll go back downstairs with you. I'll sleep in the hallway. Whatever. Just don't leave me here," she begged.

I was torn. I called her Kid, but that was something I did to remind myself that she was off-limits. This little princess was an adult, and if people found out I'd spent the night in her room, it was as an adult that her actions would be judged. I didn't know what the heck to do. Finally, I made myself meet her eyes, and in an instant, the expression in them decided me. She was clutching my shirt desperately, like she thought I was going to shove her away and escape. It was more than I could take. Right or wrong, I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that I couldn't walk away from her tonight.

"I'll stay. Come on, Kiddo. I'll stay. Just get back in bed." My words were husky as I wrapped my arms around her, trying to reassure her.

Her grip didn't slacken in the slightest. "You'll leave. Once I'm asleep, you'll leave."

Reaching up, I gently uncurled her fingers. "I give you my word—I won't leave you, DG. And you know a Tin Man never breaks his word." Moving slowly so as not to spook her, I led her back to the bed and guided her into it. When I started to pull my hand away from hers to cover her up, she clenched her fingers tightly.

"Easy, Princess. I'm just tucking you in." I didn't try to pull away again, though, and using my foot, snagged the chair I'd been sitting on while she cleaned up and pulled it close to the bed. "I'm going to need my hand back just for a second," I tried to tease.

DG didn't laugh. There was a long pause before she let go, and my heart clenched when I realized how hard it had been for her to do that. Working quickly, I took off my duster and unfastened my gun belt. The coat I draped over the back of the chair, hoping it would provide a little extra padding. The gun belt I set in easy reach of myself on the nightstand. As soon as I was settled, DG reached for me again.

I linked my fingers through hers again and squeezed. Honestly, I was happy to have the contact restored, too. DG's panic attack had shaken me more than I let on, and I was worried about her. As I did, a breath I didn't know she was holding whooshed out of the princess, and all at once she looked impossibly small. Convinced that I wasn't going anywhere, though, she let herself relax into the mattress.

"Before I came here I had nightmares, too," she said quietly, eyelids drooping. "I'm afraid to sleep now—what if I can't wake up?"

I swallowed heavily. In that moment, all I wanted was to spend the rest of my life making sure she never had a reason for bad dreams again. I might not be able to keep them away forever, but I could give her a few hours, at least. "You don't have to worry about that tonight, Princess. No nightmares on my watch."

"Going to protect me from them?" Her voice was a whisper on the edge of sleep that left a slight smile behind as she slipped into oblivion.

"It's a promise," I vowed.

I leaned back in the chair, letting myself relax for the first time in a week—Hells, in nine annuals, if I were being honest. I didn't know what would happen tomorrow, but I couldn't worry about it right now.

Right now, I had a promise to keep.

**TBC**


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: **_Not mine, not making any money. This is part two of Aftermath, and you may notice a significant difference. I usually write in first person but started this story in third. Since I'm going to continue it, I switched back. I'm reposting chapter one converted to first person. You probably only need to re-read it if it will help you get in the groove of the new style. There were a few changes, by they are negligible. How do you like this style—better? Worse? Again, all Jaime's fault._

**Aftermath –**

**Chapter Two**

_DG's POV_

The fog of sleep surrounding me was heavy and solid. Its weight begged my exhausted brain to sink into it, to ignore the voice calling me to the surface. If it had been anyone else, I probably would have given in and slipped back into oblivion, but this man I couldn't ignore.

"Princess, I need you to open your eyes and listen to me."

That didn't mean it wasn't tempting, though.

"Uh-uhhh," I dimly heard myself moan. If I'd been more awake, I probably would have been embarrassed at how childish I'd sounded. Luckily, exhaustion totally trumped embarrassment. It was a law, or if it wasn't, it should be.

Maybe that would be my first official royal act—DG shalt not have to be humiliated by anything she does when she art dead on her feet. Did they way shalt in the OZ? Something to think about.

Almost as if he could hear my thoughts, there was a soft, masculine chuckle, and then the bed dipped slightly as weight settled high up on the edge of it near my pillow. Oh this was good. This was very good. I rolled toward the warm body now perched on the edge of my mattress. I rested my cheek against the outside of his thigh and sighed.

I felt the muscles in his leg tense as soon as I touched him, and I could only imagine the internal discussion that was going on in his mind. I didn't know exactly what Cain thought of me, but at the very best, I assumed it was a mixture of amused affection. At the worst, I was probably a pretty big pain in his ass. Either way, I was pretty sure I'd crashed through a lot of his personal space boundaries in the last 24 hours, and I couldn't imagine he'd be happy about that.

I was somewhat surprised when, after a few seconds of hesitancy, Cain relaxed a little and tentatively brought his hand up, stroking it down the back of my hair. If I'd been a cat, I would have purred. And if Cain thought this was the way to get me _out_ of a bed, well, he had a lot to learn.

Looking back, I'm not sure when exactly my—I guess you'd call it relationship—with Cain changed. But it definitely had, on my part at least. I was maybe as confused about my feelings for him as I was about what his feelings for me might be. Right after Glitch and I found him, he was an aggravating stranger with the uncanny ability to spark my temper without even trying. Even when he frustrated me, though, I still trusted him. And slowly, I started to rely on him, for protection, sure, but it was more than that. I trusted Raw and Glitch, too, but not the same way I did the Tin Man.

They were my friends. Cain was—more.

He was like my air.

Once upon a time—could it really be only a week ago—I'd wanted desperately to break out of the monotony of my life. Now I was in a strange place, thrust in a role I didn't understand, surrounded by people I was supposed to love but didn't really know at all. The weight of responsibility on my shoulders was crushing, to say the least. Overall, it was pretty safe to say I felt like I was still being tossed around in the travel storm.

Maybe it didn't make any sense, but something deep inside me said that as long as Wyatt Cain was there, everything would be ok, that if he'd let me lean on him, I could do this. Deep—very deep.

"I know you're awake, Kid." His voice was quiet and amused as it interrupted my thoughts.

Glad for the intrusion so I didn't have to concentrate on those pesky mystery-of-the-universe details, I rolled a little away from him and cracked my eyelids open. Hazy gray light filled the bedroom. I was optimistic enough to believe it was gray because it was early morning, but it could very well be noon and the horrible darkness of the room was just sucking the yellow out of the light. It's also possible I decided to go with option A because it made my argument for not waking up sound much better.

"It's too early," I complained, my voice still rough with sleep. "Besides, how could you possibly know I was awake? I'm an excellent faker."

Almost before the words were out of my mouth, I was wishing them back. I felt a blush heating my cheeks at the double entendre of that last sentence, and it was almost impossible to drag my eyes up to meet Cain's. By the puzzled way he was looking down at me, though, I realized with a wave of relief that he had no idea why I was embarrassed. I sent a quick thank you up to God and made sure to let him know I owed him one.

In this instance, the language barrier was a blessing.

Powering through my awkwardness before Cain had a chance to latch on to it and ask me what was wrong, I babbled a continuation. "I'm pretty sure there's a rule about princesses never having to be awake before 9 a.m. It's probably in a rule book somewhere. You think?"

Cain was smiling again and shaking his head, absently playing with strands of my hair almost like he didn't realize he was doing it. I tried hard not to move my head because I didn't want him to stop.

"You're welcome to go back to sleep, Princess, but I needed to make sure you were awake so you knew I was leaving."

That was enough to jolt me 100 percent awake. I sat up like I'd been touched with a cattle prod, grabbing at Cain's arm. I noticed for the first time that he was wearing his coat and gun belt again. Oh God. Oh God. All at once, it felt like the walls were closing in on me.

"Leaving?" I asked, my stomach rolling. "What do you mean leaving? We need you here. We—"

"Whoa, calm down." Cain interrupted my downward spiral into hysteria, his voice soothing and firm. "I'm just going downstairs. It's been four hours, and there are things that need to be done. It's time for another shift of men to get some rest, and I need to take my turn working."

I relaxed very slightly at his explanation, and forced myself to take a couple of deep breath. Oh. Good. God. I'd just flipped out for absolutely no reason. I am _such _a dumbass. I started to look away, feeling more than a little silly about my reaction. Crap. Crap. Crap.

Of course Cain couldn't be expected to sit up here and babysit me. I understood that, and as much as I didn't want him to go, I respected it. I was so busy berating myself that I was surprised when I felt his hand cupping my chin, forcing me to turn back around.

Cain didn't say anything at first, and I finally made myself look up and meet his eyes. That's what he'd been waiting for, it seemed.

"We need to get clear about something right now, Kid, or we're going to have a problem. I'm not going anywhere. I won't be right beside you all the time, though, and I can't have you panicking or thinking I'm going to disappear on you."

I wanted to look down in shame that I'd doubted him and humiliation that I was acting like a clingy child—can anyone say separation anxiety—but his eyes held mine forcefully. Without my permission, words started pouring out of my mouth.

"I-I know that." Cain looked skeptical, which apparently, my lips didn't like. They continued moving of their own volition. "No, really. I do know that—at least, my mind does. It's just that things are so screwed up right now; I'm having trouble keeping my head on straight. I d-don't think I could handle it if you disappeared."

My voice was quiet when I finished, and even though I knew he didn't want me to, I dropped my eyes to my hands, which were laying in my lap twisting the quilt that covered my legs. I was pretty sure the blanket was made of silk, and I wondered fleetingly if I'd get charged for it if I ripped it.

"Princess, look at me."

Cain's voice didn't leave room for argument, but I shook my head anyway. Boy, who knew my nails were so _fascinating_. I could really use a manicure, though. Turns out, hauling yourself up a concrete balcony was Hell on your cuticles.

"_DG_, look at me."

Whoa. He was using my name. That meant this was serious. I took a deep breath and looked up at the Tin Man. His eyes were so intense, they were almost glowing. His tone was Charlton Heston steady when he spoke. "I'm going to be here for as long as you need me. I won't leave you. Period."

"B-because you promised the Mystic Man?" I _hated_ the quiver in my voice.

Cain shook his head. "Because I'm promising _you_."

He opened his arms, and I was in them almost before I realized what I was doing.

"I swear I don't usually cry this much," I said as I sniffled against his shoulder. "At home I'm a total tough girl."

"Your secret's safe with me, Kiddo."

He held me for a few more minutes while I got myself together, but I knew he was eager to get downstairs and check on the men. I don't have a clue _how_ I knew that, but I did all the same. Maybe my magic came with on-board ESP. Now wouldn't that be handy? Especially if it gave me a little extra insight into one particular stubborn, emotionally constipated Tin Man.

I pushed away from his chest on the off chance that the ESP might work both ways.

"Ok, I think I'm tanked up for the day. If you'll give me a few minutes, I'll throw on clothes and we can head out."

Cain was looking puzzled again. It was a look he sent my way a lot, so I'd learned to read it pretty well, even without ESP. "Tanked up?"

I rolled my eyes. We have got to figure a way around this language barrier thing. "Um, filled up? Ready to be all I can be?" Still nothing, so I tried again. "Recharged?"

Understanding dawned. "Glad the sleep did you some good—wish it could have been longer. You really don't have to get up yet, you know. You can stay here if you want."

I shook my head. "No, I need to check on my parents and Az." Plus, I didn't want to face sleeping alone, but I thought I could safely skip saying that. I also didn't bother to correct him about what I had "tanked up" on—I _was_ recharged, but I was pretty sure the contact with him had done me more good than the four hours of rest.

Deciding that I needed to do something to get us back to the status quo—me being pesky, Cain being tolerant—I scrambled across him and out of bed before he had a chance to get up or turn around. By the way he sucked in his breath, I surmised that he didn't particularly appreciate the view as I disappeared into the bathroom.

"Give me 10 minutes," I called over my shoulder just before I shut the door. I had to bite back a snort when I realized he'd already turned back around. I guess friendly, hair-rubbing Cain was gone for the day.

Honestly, the long tail of the shirt covered up way more than some of the skirts and shorts I wore back home. If he thought this was inappropriate, the Tin Man was going to be in for a surprise this summer if I managed to figure out a way to go back to the Other Side and get some of my regular clothes.

Hmm…speaking of clothes…I curled my toes away from the cold marble floor of what passed for a bathroom in the O.Z. and looked around. Thankfully, the commode worked pretty much the same way over here as it did in Kansas, so I hadn't had to humiliate myself last night by asking Cain to give me a crash course in toiletries. The sink had taken a little longer, but I'd managed to get that on and working, too.

The black marble enclosure I was pretty sure worked something like a shower was way beyond my abilities, though. I looked down at myself. After a week running through the woods, I _desperately_ wanted to shower. What to do? What to do? I lifted a hand to my hair and shuddered at the feel of it, suddenly embarrassed that Cain had touched the snarled curls. _He didn't seem to mind_, the devil on my shoulder whispered.

That was true, but I didn't think I could go another day without getting it clean. Cain was the last person in the world I wanted showing me how this thing worked, but context clues—drops of water still on the wall, the fact that he'd smelled fresh and soapy when he sat on the bed next to me—told me he'd mastered it.

I stepped inside and searched for knobs for a good three minutes before I gave up and padded back to the door, sticking my head out, I took a second to admire the rear view of the Tin Man. Cain was leaning against the far post of the bed, rubbing his temple and muttering to himself. I couldn't understand what he was saying, and I thought that was probably a good thing. I cleared my throat to get his attention and felt just a little guilty for making him uncomfortable when I saw him stiffen.

"Um, I wondered if you could show me how to work the shower."

There was a heartbeat of silence, and then he looked up at the ceiling. I wondered if he was counting.

"C-cain?" I asked tentatively. "Are you alright?"

He turned around slowly. His face was blank, but his eyes were wary. "Just wondering why there's never a Papay around to drag you off and eat you when you really need one."

I blanched. What in the world was he talking about? Sometimes this language problem worked both ways. "Uh—" I faltered, no idea how to respond to that, and Cain sighed and shook his head.

"Never mind, Kid. I'm fine. Did you need something?"

"I was wondering if you could show me how the shower works. There aren't any knobs, and I can't figure it out. Also, if you could point me toward the shampoo."

Cain was frowning again. "Shower? Sham—poo?"

Yeesh. "Um, shower. Water falls from a spigot thing above your head and you wash off with it. And shampoo—that's special soap for your hair."

His face cleared. "The bathing closet—just step in, and it'll turn on automatically. I don't know about shampoo, but soap will come out with the water when it's time and then stop again so you can rinse."

I thought it sounded kind of like an automatic car wash. I never had been very good at getting in the right spot to make those things start, so maybe I just hadn't been doing it right.

"I actually, um, already tried getting into it, and nothing happened. Is there a trick I don't know about?"

A pained look crossed his face. "You have to have your—" Pause for vague hand gesture. "You can't be wearing any—" Again with the gesture.

I got it the second time. Smart shower—it wasn't going to start until I was naked. I held my hand out and shot Cain a thumbs up. "Got it—thanks." I ducked back into the bathroom before he could sigh again. Seemed like he was doing that a lot around me lately.

Twenty minutes later—ok, so I totally blew my original estimate out of the water, but who could keep track of time when she was in the shower of the Gods—I'd redressed in the bra and panties I'd washed out last night and my jeans, which were still dirty in spite of my best efforts to shake out the filth.

I couldn't even consider putting my disgusting tank top or jacket on over my clean skin, so I left on the baggy black shirt I'd slept in, settling for tying to knots at the front to make it look like it fit a little. Probably I still looked like a kid wearing her dad's pajama top, but I didn't care. It was mostly clean, and that was all that mattered.

My hair, however, was a significant problem. Rat's nest hadn't even come close to describing it _before_ I got in the shower, and now that I was out, it was a wet mass of tangles I was pretty sure came close to rivaling Medusa's snaky mane. I was still trying—and failing—to comb my fingers through it when I stepped into the bedroom.

I was surprised to see that Cain wasn't alone. He was standing at the doorway, talking to Jeb.

"—so all of the witch's prisoners have been released from the dungeons?" He asked, voice crisp.

"At this point, yes. Some of them are more than a little worse-for-wear, but Raw and the healers don't think we're going to lose any of them."

"And the Mystic Man's body?"

"I'm sorry, Father. We haven't found it yet."

At the mention of the Mystic Man, I made a small, involuntary sound of regret. Just one more person who'd sacrificed to help me. Instinctively, I stepped forward, and like he'd sensed my need, Cain wrapped an arm around my waist.

"Understandable—as need allows, lets keep a crew looking."

Jeb nodded and frowned. "Maybe the sor—er—Princess Azkadellia—could tell us where—"

Cain interrupted him. "Last night the princess wasn't doing well, but if she's feeling better this morning there are a few things we can ask her to help us with. We'll just have to wait and see."

Jeb didn't seem happy with that, but he bowed to his father's authority. At that, he finally turned his attention to me. His eyes got big when he looked at my hair, but to his credit, he didn't run screaming from the room. Brave guy, Jeb Cain.

Looking a little uncomfortable, he nevertheless tried to greet me normally. "Good morning, Princess—"

"DG," I interrupted. "You have _got_ to call me DG. I'm going to forget my name if people don't start using it again."

Jeb turned to Cain wide-eyed. Cain snorted a laugh. "You might as well just do as she says the first time—makes things a lot easier."

Swallowing heavily, he looked at me again. "Good morning, DG. Did you, uh, sleep well?"

"Like a baby," my answer was flippant but true. I don't think I moved once in four hours, and true to his word, Cain hadn't let a single nightmare visit me. Thinking about my dreams got me thinking about Azkadellia, though, and that sobered me. "About Az—I'm going to check on her as soon as I finish here. If there's anything you need from her, let me know, and if she's feeling up to it, I'll ask her first thing."

Jeb nodded and looked at Cain, who gestured for him to continue.

"Glitch has sort of taken over most of the tower staff—it seems like almost all of them were slaves pressed into serving her. We've neutralized all of the long coats that were here, but there are roving patrols and units scattered all over the O.Z. Best we can tell from the officers who've given in and talked to us, she was the only one who really know where they all went. She had some sort of link with them. Anything she could tell us about those troops would be very helpful."

I nodded. "First thing," I promised again.

"Why don't you head on down, Son. I'll be there in a few minutes. I want to deliver the princess to her parents' room and make sure it's secure. Leave at least two men—in addition to the ones at the hall entrance—to guard that door."

Jeb nodded again. "Yes, Father."

And then he was gone.

I was working on my tangles with my fingers again and didn't notice for a second that Cain was watching me, amusement glinting in his eye.

"What?" I asked a little indignantly when I felt the weight of his gaze. "You try dealing with this hair without any styling products."

"Would this help?" He asked, pulling a comb from one of the pockets of his duster.

I shot him a dirty look. "You know, you could have offered that to me _before_ I got in the bathroom."

He looked thoughtful for a minute. "True, but then I might not have gotten to do this."

"Do wha—"

I cut off when he reached up and plucked my hand out of my hair. Holding it, he led me to the chair where he slept. I couldn't help but notice with a slight wince of guilt that it wasn't particularly comfortable. Before I could comment on that, though, he'd stepped behind me, and to my great shock—astonishment, amazement, and any other synonyms you can think of—he moved behind me and started gently working the comb through my hair.

I was speechless for a good twenty seconds, and by the time my words came back, I was enjoying the gentle tugs on my hair too much to risk interrupting his rhythm. It seemed like my tangles were willing to fall in line with everyone else and do what he wanted, because all to soon the teeth of the comb were skimming through damp but knot-free strands.

"I probably shouldn't do this," Cain said, his voice so soft I wasn't sure if he was talking to me or himself.

"Then why did you?"

"Because I wanted to." There was a pause, and he stepped away from me, tucking the comb back into his duster. "Come on, Princess. Duty calls—both of us."

I stood up and straightened my spine. He was right. It was time for me to see my family again. Whether I wanted to or not.

Once we were in the hallway, Cain reverted back to his aloof self. He didn't touch me or talk as we walked toward the room my parents and Az were staying in, but that didn't surprise me. He's usually quiet, and the fact that the corridor was teeming with what I assumed were tower staff members opening doors and airing out rooms would have made him even less inclined to speak.

We were maybe half way to the stairs when Glitch popped out of one of the rooms. He was holding a clipboard, and if it hadn't been for the fact that he tripped over his own feet in his rush to hug me, I might not have recognized him.

"Boy aren't you looking—spiffy."

He brushed at the black wool jacket he was wearing self-consciously. "Well, it's not my usual color, Doll, but the pickings were pretty slim."

"I noticed," I replied with a wry smile, gesturing at my clothes. "I'd kill for a fresh pair of—pants."

Glitch backed up and put his chin in his hands. "I think we can come up with something for you by tonight—is it ok if I just have one of the maids leave some things in your room? They might not be the greatest, but—"

"As long as they're clean, that's fine with me," I interrupted him. I felt a shadow pass over my face and had to ask.

"H-have you seen my parents and Az this morning?"

Glitch's smile melted away, and he nodded. From the expression on his face, I understood he wasn't pleased with what he saw. Rather than ask him about it, I just straightened my shoulders and changed the subject. I'd see for myself in a few minutes, anyway.

"Cain, would you like some fresh clothes, too?"

"Zipperhead, if you can find me something to wear that's seen a laundry room more recently than this shirt has, I'd appreciate it."

Glitch snorted. "Well that won't be hard." The jab was delivered with a smile, and drew a smile in return from the Tin Man.

"True," he conceded. "These pants could probably walk on their own."

Since I was pretty fond of his pants, I decided not to comment.

"Ok—uh—where should I have the maids leave them?"

I tensed a little, wondering what Cain would say. I knew without a doubt that I wasn't going to be comfortable by myself in that horrible room. I concentrated on not having a nervous breakdown when he delivered the answer I was pretty sure he was going to—that Glitch needed to find him a room and put the clothes there.

Instead, when he spoke, it was all I could do to keep my mouth from falling open in shock. And then it was all I could do to keep myself from throwing my arms around him.

"Just put them in DG's room."

"DG's—" Glitch's eyes got big, but I had no idea what he might have said. His mouth closed with an audible snap at the look on Cain's face, and he nodded. Just then a maid wandered up to him with questions about food, and his attention was effectively turned.

I looked up, and for a second, it was like Cain and I were alone in the busy hall, an island in the midst of the confusion. "I—you—" I didn't know what to say. I knew how uncomfortable he'd been staying in my room last night. I hadn't wanted to let myself think about it, but I'd understood why.

Rumors started very easily, and sleeping in a bedroom with me would feed talk like wildfire. Plus, for all intents and purposes, he'd just lost his wife. What must Jeb be thinking about the fact that he'd spent the night with me? I should tell him to get his own room, that I'd be all right with out him.

Obviously sensing my inner turmoil, gently, Cain raised his hand and touched my cheek. "I said I wouldn't leave you, and I meant it, Princess. Whatever you need." He let his hand drop as quickly as he'd raised it, and just like that the Tin Man was back in place. "Let's get you to your family."


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: **_Not mine, not making any money. Thanks so much for the amazing reviews! I really, really appreciate them…they make me want to write more ;)._

**Aftermath –**

**Chapter Three**

_Cain's POV_

It was official—I might not have a zipper running the length of my hairline, but somewhere in the last 48 hours, someone had come along and ripped the brains right out of my head. That was the only explanation I could come up with for the way I was acting.

I touched her.

Right there in front of the Gods and the Ghost of Ozma, I raised my hand and brushed it across her cheek. The words didn't sound so bad: Raised my hand and brushed it across her cheek. But I knew better. Words could be deceiving. Actions were what mattered.

It wasn't a _friendly_ touch—a slug in the shoulder, or even a hug I might have been able to pass off like that. It wasn't a _protective_ touch—shoving her behind me so I could be first in if danger lurked. It wasn't a _formal_ touch—it was acceptable to kiss a princess' hand and bow. It wasn't even a _supportive _touch—patting her on the back the way a parent would to silently tell her everything was going to be all right.

And it sure as Snoob(1) wasn't the kind of touch a bodyguard should be giving his royal charge—ever. It was the kind of touch a man gave a woman when he wanted to do more—_much_ more—but couldn't.

I looked around as we started toward the suite of rooms the rest of the royal family was in and couldn't help but notice that everyone in the hall was looking carefully at anything besides DG and I.

Well Hells.

The Tower of the House of Gale in Central City—that's where they'd hang me. The gallows in Central Square wouldn't be near public enough. Probably Ahamo would tie the noose, and the Queen would use what was left of her magic to throw the lever that would drop the floor out from under me. More people would show up to see it than came for The Great Procession(2). There would be a great celebration. I could hear it now, people singing high and low that the commoner who'd threatened their long-lost princesses' virtue was dead. I bet they'd even ring bells.

At least Jeb hadn't had too long to get used to the idea that he wasn't an orphan. That was a blessing, wasn't it? And even though he was a little crazy, Glitch would make sure DG stayed safe. Honestly, it wasn't like I could really blame her parents. If I'd seen another man touching DG that way—

"Cain, you're squeezing my arm too hard," DG whispered, interrupting my thoughts.

My eyes flew to my hand where it was wrapped around the silky material of the black shirt DG wore, and I pulled away like I'd been burned. How in the Valley of Voe had that happened? I hadn't even realized I'd been holding on to her.

"Er, sorry Kid." I could feel my ears burning.

DG shook her head but smiled. "Hey, I didn't say I minded, but a little looser is better. That's my right hand, and it probably would be a bad thing if it fell off because of lack of circulation. You'd have to spend the rest of your life feeding me because my left is totally useless."

We reached the door. The two additional guards I'd ordered Jeb to place in front of it were staring studiously forward. They bowed their heads deferentially at DG, eyes cast downward. The princess rolled her eyes in response. I could almost hear her thoughts; she was frustrated about the reverent way they were treating her.

I started to greet them myself—hopefully before DG could say something that shocked and scandalized them—and I was surprised when the one on the right spoke before I could. I was _more_ _than_ surprised by how he addressed me.

"The room is secure as you ordered, Sir."

"Sir?" I asked skeptically.

The men looked uneasily at one another. "Uh, would you prefer Commander?" The one on the left asked voice tentative.

I was shaking my head but before I could answer, the door behind the guards opened to reveal Ahamo. The man looked like he'd been rode hard and put away wet. His presence distracted the guards, and they spun around, bowing low and murmuring, "Your highness."

"Thank you, gentlemen," Ahamo said to them. His face lightened when he looked at DG. "You're looking much renewed, Sweetheart."

I thought DG's returning smile seemed forced, but I didn't think anyone besides me would be able to tell.

"I feel better—" There was a hesitant pause. "—Father. Are mother and Az—"

"Let's talk inside," he interrupted her question. I straightened when he turned to me. "If you could come in, as well, Mr. Cain we would be appreciative."

It was an order, not a request, and I recognized it as such. Since I wanted to check the room myself before DG went in, I settled for answering with a sharp nod. As eager I was I was to get downstairs, I had to make sure the princess was secure before I went anywhere with out her. Plus I figured he hadn't had time to plan my execution just yet. I had at least a couple of hours before the rumors made their way into this room.

Ahamo turned back to the guards. "We're not to be disturbed," he said firmly.

They acknowledged the statement by bringing their fists across their chests in what I recognized as the official salute of the Royal Army of the O.Z. Seeing it now, for the first time since Azkadellia overthrew her mother, sent a wave of déjà vu through my subconscious.

I was distracted when I felt DG close at my side. Without warning, she pressed her body hard against mine. The contact didn't last more than a second, and for just an instant, she looked up at me, eyes wide, and bit her lip.

Then something remarkable happened. The change was physically evident. Her shoulders aligned, her jaw firmed, and her posture straightened. I _knew _she was still nervous and unsure, but looking at her, there was no sign of it. Right then, she looked every inch as regal as her mother ever had. Pasting a confident smile on her face, she swept into the room after Ahamo.

I could only shake my head and follow her. Just when I thought I knew everything about her, she managed to surprise and impress me all over again. She was—magnificent. I shook myself a little, hoping I hadn't been staring at her like a blithering idiot, and took in the room at a glance.

It was dark—no surprise there; the entire tower was dark—but done in shades of darkest brown and navy blue rather than the green and black of our room. _Her_ room, I corrected myself firmly. It was also much larger. The doorway opened to a foyer and then to a spacious sitting area filled with sofas and chairs upholstered in dark fabrics.

On one side of the space was a wide balcony, not as large as the one that opened off of the Sorceress' chambers, but still huge, and a long table surrounded by at least 20 chairs took up another swath of the room. Closed doors peppered liberally along the walls made the room a security nightmare, but for now I focused on the open double doors at the far end of the space.

"Princess—" I started, but DG cut me off.

"That's Az's room," she said, indicating the double doors. "I'm going to go check on her."

I nodded. "Let me—"

"She'll be fine here, Mr. Cain." Ahamo's voice interrupted me. I swiveled my head to look at him. I chose my words carefully as I started to answer.

"With all due respect, Your Highness—"

He didn't seem to be listening to me. Instead, Ahamo turned to his daughter, and his face softened again. "You go ahead, DG. Your mother's with Az now. I know they'll both be happy to see you."

DG hesitated. She looked at her father and then, brow furrowed, turned to me. "C-Cain?"

If she'd drawn a line in the sand, the implication couldn't have been any clearer. She'd listen to her father only if I said it was all right. That left me in a tight spot. It was obvious her father thought it was safe and didn't want me going back to the bedroom. If I really thought DG's safety was at risk, I wouldn't give the royal consort's wishes a second thought. But her mother _was_ there. I mentally measured the distance between the double doors and where I was standing. If something happened, I could be at DG's side in less than a minute. I decided to make a reluctant concession to a father's pride.

DG was still looking at me. "Go ahead, Kid. Just yell if you need anything."

Her face cleared and she smiled at me. "Thanks."

Then she was off, leaving me alone with Ahamo. I watched her until she disappeared through the doors. Her voice when she spoke was muffled, and I couldn't make out what she was saying. Confident that she was fine, though, I steeled myself and turned back to the consort.

His appraising gaze was shrewd, and I resisted the urge to run my fingers around my collar. Clearly, the consort had something on his mind. Instead of calling for a noose, though, his voice when he spoke was companionable.

"Would you like a drink, Mr. Cain?"

I hid my surprise behind a blank face and decided in an instant to play along with the friendly overture. I nodded. "I wouldn't say no to one."

Turning on his heel Ahamo started toward an alcove beside the long table, motioning me to follow him. He picked up a bottle of golden amber liquid and recognized and held it out to me. I studied it and handed it back.

"Surprised to see that here," I commented neutrally. "Thought the last of it was long gone when the Fields of the Papé withered."

"Apparently, the Sorceress kept some comforts for her honored guests," Ahamo replied dryly as he filled two glasses. Handing one to me, he lifted his and clanked it against mine. The crystal made a musical ting that echoed for a moment. "To changing times."

"To better times," I countered, and we both drank.

Silence stretched between us, and I settled in to wait. This was a man with something on his mind, and I was patient enough to let him take his time spitting it out. I was rewarded when, finally, he spoke.

"I've heard quite a lot about you, Mr. Cain," he said simply.

This came as a surprise. Where the Royal Consort of the O.Z. would have heard about me was a mystery. Luckily, it was one Ahamo was willing and able to solve.

"Surprised?" He asked. "You shouldn't be. After you and your friends left my family and I on the balcony last night, we had quite a bit of time to talk. DG had quite a lot to say about you."

I tilted my head toward the double doors. "From the sounds of things, seems like there might have been more important things to discuss."

A shadow passed over the older man's face, and he nodded, rueful. "Ah, Azkadellia. You're right—she collapsed after the sons moved from behind the moon. It was almost like she was waiting to make sure it happened, and once it did, her strength left her."

"D—_the_ _princess_—mentioned that she was having nightmares."

Ahamo looked amused. "You can call her DG, Mr. Cain, without me objecting. I realize the last week has established some _unusual _friendships." His face sobered then, and he continued. "But yes—you're right. The witch was like a parasite on my daughter. Even though DG dispelled her, Azkadellia's light has been severely depleted by the years that creature _fed_ on her. Az's condition now is much like her mother's was when she saved DG's life."

I schooled my features not to react, but inside my head was spinning. Did DG know? If she did, how would she handle the guilt she was sure to—

"I know what you're thinking, Mr. Cain, and yes, DG understands what happened. It seems someone has convinced her to _let the past go_. Someone who's opinion she values very highly."

I met the consort's eyes careful not to show the slightest reaction. I didn't know what was happening here, and I didn't want to tip my hand yet. Then, out of nowhere, he changed the subject.

"What do you know about the magic of the House of Gale and how it affects the O.Z., Mr. Cain?"

I blanched but searched my brain. "I understand that the two are link from ancient times," I said carefully.

"That's right, but it goes more deeply than that. You've heard of Dorothy Gale?"

I nodded.

"DG was named after her," Ahamo continued. "She was the first Slipper. What most don't know, though, is that she came to the O.Z. not once but twice. She was just a child the first time she slipped through. Her truly important visit, though, was her second one. She came back and rescued the Princess Ozma."

I tried to keep my face blank, but my eyes widened in spite of myself. "But I thought Ozma was an ancestor of the House of Gale—it's taught that she passed her magic down to Dorothy."

"And so she did," Ahamo nodded. "Just not the way you think. Ozma wasn't Dorothy Gale's mother. Dorothy rescued her and put her in power."

I felt myself frowning. This was an interesting history lesson, sure, but in the end, I couldn't imagine why something that happened in ancient times really mattered now. I was about to say so when Ahamo interrupted.

"I realize this might sound strange, but believe me, it's very important. You see, Ozma realized she would not be able to stay in power forever, so she made a pact with the House of Gale. Her magic—the magic of the O.Z.—would be passed down through the female members of that line for all eternity. The Gale women would be gifted with the Light of Ozma, and their fate, in turn, would be linked to that of the O.Z."

I was nodding. "That's why a Gale with the gift of the light must always be in power. Forgive me, your highness, but that's common knowledge."

"Patience, Tin Man. You'll understand soon. Another drink?"

I shook my head. The nectar of the Papé fruit was potent, and I wanted all my wits about me.

"That's why Azkadellia was able to seize power so easily, and why so many followed her. After my wife gave her light to save DG, she couldn't maintain the balance of power necessary to sustain the O.Z. She sent DG to the other side, and that left Azkadellia as the only Gale heir with the required magic. It made it nearly impossible for the people to resist her rule. Corrupt and twisted as it was, their bond to the magic of Ozma made submitting to Azkadellia—even though she wasn't truly a Gale since the witch had possession of her—almost compulsory."

I was shaking my head. "If that were true, your highness, how do you explain the resistance?" I knew better than most the price of loyalty to the rightful queen. It wasn't an easy choice, but it had been the _right_ choice, and I'd never considered making another.

"Citizens of the O.Z. who were loyal to the queen herself, not just bound by chance and virtue of the magic of Ozma, were spared. The Queen had enough light left to keep that hope alive as long as she was."

Ahamo poured himself another drink and continued. "Something unexpected happened because of the taint of the witch's magic on Azkadellia's light. Even though a Gale was still in power, the magic was _wrong_. And because of that wrongness, something unforeseen was allowed to happen. The witch's dark magic began undoing the O.Z. from the inside."

"Undoing—"

"No matter how strong she was, the witch shouldn't have been able to make the fields of the Papé fallow. She shouldn't have been able to destroy Finaqua, or encase the Northern Palace in a mountain of ice. Only the instability created by the lack of a true Gale heir on the thrown allowed her to do that. It's an undoing, that, unless stopped, will continue like dominoes falling."

"But DG brought one of the Papé trees back to life," I protested. "She brought back the magic waters at Finaqua."

"Exactly, Mr. Cain. My wife does not have the power to stop what's happening to the O.Z., nor does Azkadellia. DG, however, does."

He was looking at me levelly, like he expected that to mean something to me, and I felt my temper fire a little. Was he questioning DG's ability or her intentions?

"Why are you telling me this?" I asked. "You might not know your daughter well, but I can promise you this, whatever has to be done, DG will do it. She damn near killed herself saving her sister, but she did it. She's not a quitter, Your Highness."

"I'm well aware of that, Mr. Cain," the consort retorted, voice going cold. "Once she realizes what's at stake, I doubt we could keep her from doing whatever she has to do to help. She might have listened to you and 'let go' of her guilt on the surface. But she still feels it deep inside, along with a very real sense of responsibility for the O.Z. itself, although that she might not recognize yet."

Mollified, I felt like I owed Ahamo an apology for assuming he'd underestimated DG, but he continued before I could choose my words.

"The problem is going to be keeping her alive long enough to do it."

Suddenly a scream split the air, and my blood went cold. Then I was running toward the double doors, cursing myself for not checking the room. If anything happened to her—I pulled my gun as I charged through the entrance.

TBC

* * *

1 Snoob – A sorcerer who appears in "The Gnome King of Oz." Originally fashioned The Magic Casket.

2 The Great Procession – A parade that debuts in "The Road to Oz" in honor of Ozma's birthday. All the citizens of note of Oz, and some of not so great note, participate in this parade every year.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: **_Not mine, not making any money. So I really hadn't intended to work on this piece again for a while. I've been traveling for work and completely planned to write something else during my down time, but then you guys sent me a bunch of AMAZING reviews, and my satisfied muse decided it couldn't concentrate on anything else—hmmm—who knows; if you keep reviewing it MIGHT just work again. _

_Speaking of, I haven't had time to do individual review replies, but I'm hoping you'll forgive me since I spent the minutes writing instead. Also, please forgive any typos. I wrote this on my Palm, and the stupid folding keyboard is smaller than the one on my laptop. I might go back and tweak it a little later to smooth out any rough spots because it's absolutely impossible to re-read on that little screen._

_ And now, without further ado, some actual plot!_

**Aftermath—**

**Chapter Four**

I mentally braced myself as I walked through the door into Azkadellia's bedroom. It was silly, but knowing that Cain was still out in the main room with Ahamo—I was trying, but I still couldn't think of him as my father—made it easier for me to paste a cheerful smile on my face. I knew without asking that he'd tell me before he left.

I was a little curious—ok, that might be a teeny, tiny, understatement—about whatever Ahamo wanted to discuss with Cain. I figured it had something to do with the security of the tower, since everyone _but_ Cain seemed to think Cain was in charge of that, but I didn't know for sure.

I hate not knowing things, even—ok, fine, especially—when they really aren't any of my business. Right now, though, I had other fish to fry. I let out a breath I didn't know I'd been holding when I walked through the door and realized Az was sleeping peacefully.

The rustle of my clothing must of reached her ears, because the Queen looked up from her position by the bed and nodded at me, face lightening a little. She was holding Az's hand, gently rubbing the back of it. Worry and fatigue were clear in her gaze, though, and the smile she sent me was forced. She looked like a woman in need of a lifeline.

In response, I set my own smile more firmly. I might not have been the best candidate for the position, but I was all she had. And maybe I didn't feel the way I should about her, but I was determined to be what she needed in as much as I could. It was the least I could do, since—I forced my thoughts to cut off before they could start down that path. Guilt was the last thing I had time to think about right now.

"How is she today?" I asked softly.

"Better—much better, actually," the Queen said. She paused, and looked intently at me before continuing. "Az rested peacefully most of the night after you left. It was interesting, what you did DG. Interesting, and very, very generous."

Huh. Guess I hadn't been as sneaky as I thought. I blushed at the praise and tried to make light of it. "It was nothing, really."

Last night before I went to find Cain, Az's nightmares had gotten so violent, we'd all been afraid she was going to hurt herself. She was screaming things I didn't understand, a lot of mumbo jumbo thoughts about things that had happened while she was possessed—stuff about soul stealing, executions, destroying the Papé fields and Finaqua, undoing things—then she'd started in about the Mobats, clawing at her chest and begging them to get off of her.

It was more than I could take. Without thinking about it, I'd laid my hands on either side of her head and—for lack of a better word—pushed my light into her. The Queen and Ahamo were so busy trying to hold her hands away from her body, I didn't think they even noticed what I did. The way Az went still and relaxed into the mattress made the blinding pain that exploded in my head as I pulled away more than worth it.

I'd kept my face carefully blank as I stumbled away from the bed, and I was pretty sure enough attention was focused on Az that I thought I'd managed to hide the extent of the contact I'd had with her, and how painful it had been. As I sagged against the wall away from the prying eyes of my birth parents, the _need_ to see Cain had washed over me almost as powerfully and as painfully as the backlash from easing Az's nightmares.

I didn't understand it, but I didn't have enough energy to question it. Instead, I'd weakly asked Ahamo and the Queen if it would be alright if I asked Glitch to find me a room so I could rest. I carefully ignored the flash of hurt I was in their eyes when they realized I didn't want to share the spacious suite with them.

If I were a better daughter, I might have stayed, but I just—couldn't. _Cain. Have to find Cain. Need to find Cain._ The words were clawing at my spinning head. I sent up a quick prayer of thanks when they looked at one another and nodded, clearly trying to mask their feelings about me leaving, and I fled the room. My internal compass was directing me forcefully downstairs, and it was just dumb luck that I ran into Glitch as I made my way toward the stairs.

He looked surprised when I paused to ask for a room, but I guess he saw in my face that it wasn't a good time for questions or arguments. Looking way more like someone I'd think of as Ambrose than the goofy Glitch I'd come to love, he'd nodded and told me which room would be ready for me. I took a second and hugged him gratefully, trying to ignore the way my head whirled with every movement.

When I was in high school, the local police department did a demonstration with "Drunk Glasses." It felt like I was wearing them as I plowed on in my quest to find the Tin Man. The intoxication level dial was turning up with every step. I have no idea how I managed to make it to the ground floor without rolling head over heels down the stairs, but I did it.

I was maybe three steps from collapsing myself when I saw him, and then the most bizarre thing happened. I caught site of his back, and just like that, my headache dissipated and the tilty, vertigo world I was walking through straightened a little. When he touched me, things got even better. Sure, I was still absolutely exhausted and felt like I'd gotten into a fight with a Mac truck—and lost. But it wasn't half as bad, not even a third as bad, as what I'd been feeling.

I've never been one to question providence, so I decided to ignore it. I mean, no one knew how messed up I'd been after I did it, and I turned out fine in the end. So no reason to kick up a fuss, right?

Yes, I realize that if the whole Princess of the O.Z. thing doesn't work out for me, I have a bright future as an ostrich. But hey, burying your head in the sand is a _skill_—especially if you're as good at it as I am.

 Now, though, with the Queen looking at me, her tired face shrewd, I was pretty sure I hadn't fooled anyone. And I didn't think she was going to buy into my if-you-pretend-it-didn't-happen-then-it's-not-really-there plan. That didn't mean I couldn't try, though.

Carefully not meeting the Queen's eyes, I sat down in the second chair beside Az's bed and set out to change the subject.

"How long do you think it will be before her light is restored," I asked softly, careful to keep my voice low so I didn't wake my sister.

The Queen was frowning. "DG—we need to discuss this."

When in doubt, play dumb. "Discuss what?"

The Queen tilted her head, and for the first time she actually looked more like a parent than like a serene statue of perfection. If she'd been Momster, the expression on her face would have been clearly saying, "So this is how you want to play it, young lady?"

I swallowed nervously, not sure what to do about this particular incarnation of parenthood. Luckily, I didn't have to figure out what to say next, because the Queen spoke.

"Do you know why we spent so much time at Finaqua, DG?"

Ok, that was out of left field. Since I could count the number of things I remembered about my entire life in the O.Z. on the fingers of one hand, and most of them had happened at Finaqua, I decided it made sense that we must have been there quite a bit, but nope, in answer to her question, I had no idea why.

Well, other than the fact that it was a really, really cool place—except for that whole cave thing. I settled for shaking my head in answer.

"Using magic isn't without its effects, Angel, and its dangers," she continued softly. "It's like any other activity—it can make you tired, it can make you rejuvenated, and sometimes, it can be quite painful." She raised an eyebrow, practically daring me to comment.

I was a rock. No way was I breaking. "Really," I said with what I thought was an Oscar-worthy level of nonchalance. "That's—interesting."

The Queen nodded solemnly. "Yes, yes it is. And one of the most painful aftereffects of magic happens when you use your light to delve into the mind of another person when they haven't invited you there—_particularly_ if that other has the gift, also." She paused like she was searching for words, and I had to physically restrain myself from leaning forward to make sure I didn't miss anything. "It's something like the pain a viewer feels when he's forced to look into the mind of someone unwilling. But much, much worse—in fact, if someone were to, say, try to shield the mind of one who is gifted from nightmares, well, the result would be so physically—taxing—that only a person in possession of _extraordinary_ power would be able to do it at all. In fact, it could even be fatal should someone with a weak light attempt it."

Oh crap. Crap. Crap. Crap. I knew that tone. I was in trouble. _Mayday, Mayday, Re-direct! _My mind frantically ordered me. I scrambled for something to say and hit on the Queen's first statement.

"Y-you mentioned Finaqua? What does that have to do with—"

"The light within one with the gift is not without a means of—protecting itself—from reactions like fatigue, cold, pain," the Queen interrupted. "In every Gale woman, the magic chooses a shield—a protector, if you will. Contact with that shield eases the effects and rejuvenates the wielder. For me, my magic chose the waters of Finaqua as my shield."

She was gently fingering the crystals sewn into the bodice of her gown.

"These," she continued, eyes suddenly sad, "are not as vital to me as they once were, but they are crystallized drops of Finaqua's waters. You might notice that most of my clothing is decorated with them. That's so I'll never be too far away from my talisman. They aren't as effective as the waters themselves, but they'll do in a pinch."

She held up a hand to stop me when I started to reply. Probably that was a good thing, since my mind was spinning about a hundred miles an hour. I had a sinking feeling that I understood the wild rush to get to Cain.

"As I said, what you did was very generous, but it was also very reckless." She leaned forward and took my hands, eyes glittering. "Angel, I'm so very sorry I didn't realize what you'd done before you left. I didn't understand at all until this morning when I touched your sister's forehead and felt the traces of your light. My only excuse is that your father and I had—a distraction—weighing on our minds after Az calmed and you left."

Oh great—I'd made her feel bad. It was official. I was the worst daughter ever. "Mother," the word felt awkward on my lips, but I managed it, "it's ok. I'm fine now, and it helped Az. I don't see what the problem is. I think we should just let it go."

Frustration bloomed in her eyes. "DG, my magic chose the waters of Finaqua to protect me as soon as my light grew strong enough to _need_ a shield. But your gift hasn't had time to do that for you. You must be more _careful_, DG. That you could do something like that without understanding it is so very frightening. We _can't_ lose you. We need you—the entire O.Z. needs you. Yes, you recovered, but at what price? And you went off all alone."

Hm. Well, this was awkward. What was I supposed to say now?

I opened my mouth, but Az's scream cut me off completely. She went from peaceful to thrashing in zero-point-five seconds.

"No! It's tearing! It's tearing! She's undoing it! We have to stop it! We have to stop it! I can feel it!" Before either the Queen or I could move, she was sitting up eyes still tightly closed. And then, just like last night, the dream changed in a heartbeat. "They're inside me! Get them out of me! Get them off of me!"

The Queen and I threw ourselves at Az just as she started clawing at her chest again. "Get them off! Get them off!"

I dimly registered Cain storming into the room, Ahamo right behind him. Raised voices and confusion filled the space. Their entrance distracted me for a second, and I lost my grip on Az's arm. The pointed nails cultivated by the witch raked across my face and neck, and I felt three long cuts open on my skin.

Then Cain was there, holding her hand and pulling it away from me. Without stopping to think about the consequences, I grabbed Az's head again and pushed. I felt the light roar out of me, and Az stiffened and fell back against the pillow. For an instant, the room was utterly still. It was like the world stopped moving entirely.

Then my head exploded.

I reeled back from Azkadellia.

"Cain," I whispered hoarsely—I didn't have to raise my voice because he was right there, holding my arms, pushing my hair back.

"DG, are you—"

"Catch me."

And then the world went black.

I returned to awareness slowly. The first thing I registered was the feeling of arms—strong arms, holding me carefully almost like they were afraid I would break.

Voices came next.

I listened, but I couldn't make myself open my eyes just yet.

"—we think the nightmares are so severe because of the undoing." There was a pause and the Queen continued, voice tearful. "If we can't find a way to stop them, we're afraid we'll lose her entirely to madness. And who knows how long it will be before it begins to tear away at DG, too."

"You're going to have to be a little more clear about that, Your Majesty." Cain's voice was icy, hard.

"I would have explained it to you if we hadn't been interrupted, Mr. Cain," Ahamo replied stiffly. "As I told you, the O.Z. is dependant on the gifted heir of the House of Gale for it's survival, but that works both ways. The House of Gale is _equally_ dependant upon the O.Z."

"It's a—It's a—It's a—" I heard a muffled oomph. "Thanks. I needed that. It's a double bind."

Yeesh. How long had I been out, and when had Glitch gotten here? And more than that, what the heck were they talking about? Huh. Maybe I was still unconscious.

"Your highness," Tutor's cautious voice intruded from somewhere off to the right, "are you sure you aren't mistaken? It _could_ be just a case of nightmares. We have to consider the wisdom of placing our trust in something Azkadellia said during a dream. The undoing of the foundation of the O.Z.—is such a thing even possible?

Undoing of the O.Z. Azkadellia's dream? I concentrated and thought about the night before, trying to understand the conversation floating around me. It wasn't a pleasant memory, but it was very clear. Last night had been—bad didn't even come close to describing it. When Az collapsed, the Queen—Mother, you _have got_ to start thinking of her as Mother—was beside herself. I lost myself in remembering.

_The four of us were standing at the balcony railing, looking at the suns, and for the first time in my life—at least, what I could remember of my life—things felt really 100 percent right. Then Azkadellia swayed forward. I saw the movement out of the corner of my eye, before I could move to do anything about it, though, the color drained from her already-pale face and she was falling. _

_"Az!" I'd yelled in surprise as she sank gracefully to the ground. Yeah, my big sister even managed to look beautiful passing out. Good thing I loved her, or I'd have to hate her for that._

_The queen noticed what was happening a heartbeat after I did._

_"Oh my darling Azkadellia! Ahamo, what's happening? Help her, dear Gods, please do something." _

_Ahamo swooped in and picked her up off the concrete. Mother was fluttering around him, managing to look like an exotically beautiful bird even in her panic. Az must have gotten that from her. Once he had Az in his arms, Ahamo was looking around helplessly, like he had not the faintest clue what to do with her._

_The love and terror you could see in both of their faces nudged me into movement. They might have been strangers, but even I could see their feelings for Az, and I knew in my heart that if our positions were reversed, they'd be experiencing the same emotions about me. _

_"Quick, we need to get her lying down," I exclaimed. I'd pushed open the balcony doors. They led into the Sorceress' darkly lush private chambers. Normally I'd call them room, but honest to God they were too opulent for a simple word like that. When she held me prisoner, I'd had a chance to see them for myself, so I knew where the bed was._

_As Ahamo rushed to follow me, Az's eyes fluttered open. She must have realized where we were headed, because she started struggling and crying hysterically. _

_"No! No! Please, you can't put me in that bed! You can't, you can't." _

_I braked so suddenly, it was lucky Ahamo didn't plow into my back. Duh. Jesus I was an idiot. The Queen caught up with us and was trying unsuccessfully to calm her oldest daughter. It wasn't working, and cracks in her perfectly polished veneer of serenity were starting to show. Instinct told me that my mother was barely holding herself together—tonight hadn't been easy for her, either—and I knew someone had to do something._

_Sadly, it looked like I'd been chosen by process of elimination. There just wasn't anyone else to do anything. _

_Cain, you need to get Cain, my brain had screamed. It was irrational, but somewhere along the way my subconscious decided to employ a new default setting—when under duress, find the Tin Man. Stupid brain—it must be running Windows Vista. Vista was always coming up with new default settings for my laptop without bothering to ask my permission._

_And much like my laptop, I was helpless against the power of the default. _

_"Stay here," I ordered my parents. "I'll get help."_

I charged out of the chambers and into the wide stairway. I didn't know where the heck Cain was but I was going to find him. Instead, though, two flights down I ran into Glitch. Reaching out, I grabbed him by the shoulders.

_"Glitch! I need a room! Az is sick—we need to get her in a bed."_

_"A room?" He was confused for a minute, like the word didn't quite process, but then his face cleared. "Yes! We have a room—a room with beds— ready for you. It's at the end of this hall—"_

_I spun on my heel without waiting another second and raced back up the stairs, slamming through the doors to the witch's chamber. The Queen and Ahamo were on the floor, holding a sobbing Az. Her eyes were tightly closed, and tears were streaming out of the corners of them. I could hear her broken sobs as I ran to them._

_"We have to stop it. She didn't understand what she was doing until it was already half done. She undid it. She's undoing it right now—the emerald—she thought the power of the emerald would let her control what was happening, but she was wrong. She didn't lock the suns, but she made it worse. I can feel it—can you feel it, Mother? Fast—it's happening so fast now..."  _

_"I found a place to take her," I reached them as Az's voice trailed off, and panting, I spoke. _

_In a flash Ahamo was on his feet. "We'll follow you," he said._

_When he moved, Az's moans started again, but they'd changed._

_"No, please. Kill him if you have to, but not that way. Not that way. Don't take his soul. Don't take his soul…"_

_It went on like that for hours, so many horrors came pouring out of Az that I couldn't keep track of them. She'd quiet for a few minutes, and then start again._

"—waited until DG left last night to use my light to see if I could understand what she'd said. I thought coming out of the witch's prison was why I felt so off, but when I explored, I realized that it was more. So I sent Ahamo—"

"DG awake," Raw's voice interrupted the Queen, and all at once everyone stopped talking.

"She has been for a couple of minutes," Cain said calmly. I felt him reach up and brush a lock of hair out of my forehead.

I reluctantly opened my eyes, glad someone had apparently thought to keep the lights dim. "How did you know?" I demanded.

His smile was forced, as was the light tone of his response. "You can't fake me, Kid. I'm just good."

_Maybe it's just that no one's ever had to_, my treacherous mind replied. I clamped my lips shut before _that_ little gem could pop out and forced myself to sit up. I did not, however, make a move to get off Cain's lap. All the other seats seemed to be taken, anyway.

"So, what's an undoing?"

What can I say—subtlety never was my forte.

TBC 


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: **_Not mine, not making any money. Would you look at that—it worked again. It must be official…reviews equal updates. This is kind of an angsty chapter, but it's going to get a bit happier after this—for a while at least ; ). Thanks so much everyone who read for the kind words! _

Aftermath –

**Chapter 5**

Cain's POV

When DG collapsed into my arms, I thought my heart would stop.

And her parents, well, they didn't look much better.

"Glinda save her, she's going to kill herself!" Queen Lavender was ringing her hands. "And her poor face—"

Cradling DG high on my chest, I interrupted the queen. "We need to find Raw. He can help her."

Ahamo was shaking his head. "She used her light to protect Azkadellia from the nightmares. Even the most skilled viewer won't be able to help with that. After last night—"

My eyes flew to the Royal Consort's face. "Last night? What are you talking about?"

Queen Lavender replied before her husband could. "She did the same thing last night, Mr. Cain. Her father and I didn't realize until this morning. It would have weakened her considerably. We were both surprised she was doing so well this morning. I tried to warn her, but she wouldn't listen. To try to do that again so quickly—oh my angel." The Queen's voice broke on a sob.

I clenched my jaw, fighting back a wave of anger. I wasn't sure exactly who I was furious with, her parents for not doing—something, DG for being her usual reckless self, or myself for not knowing there was a problem. One thing I knew for sure, though, the Queen getting hysterical was the last thing DG needed. Even though she was unconscious, I turned her protectively away from the waves of anguish radiating off of her mother.

My mind was running fast through what I knew, and faster through what I didn't. This had happened last night? Why hadn't she told me? I thought about the way she'd looked coming down those stairs. She'd been dead on her feet. When she said she'd been worried about me, the explanation rang true. But maybe it hadn't been the _entire_ truth. And I had been worried enough about her that I hadn't pushed any further.

Clearly, that had been a mistake—one I wouldn't make again.

I looked down at DG's face. Triplet trails of blood were running down her cheek from the gashes left by Azkadellia's nails. It looked like she'd been attached by one of the Bears of Voe1.

"He might not be able to do anything about her magic, but Raw can at least help with these cuts. Send one of the guards to get him. Now."

I didn't bother to stop and think about the fact that I'd just issued an order to the rulers of the O.Z. There was a beat of silence, and then the Queen was nodding. "Yes, yes of course. I'll tell them now."

As she hurried toward the entrance, Ahamo turned to me, his hands outstretched. "Here, let me take her." The idea of letting DG out of my arms sent a bolt of something very close to pain through my gut. My entire body rebelled at the concept. Obviously sensing my hesitation, Ahamo continued, voice impatient. "There's an extra room—we'll put her in bed and—"

I shook my head firmly. "I don't want her waking up alone, Your Highness." I shouldered my way past the consort. "We'll sit out here and wait for the fur ball."

Ahamo's jaw clenched. "That's my daughter you're holding, Mr. Cain. I think I know how to help her."

I didn't answer, just met his gaze defiantly. We might still be standing there staring at one another, locked in a silent battle of wills, if Queen Lavender hadn't rushed back into the room and inadvertently settled the argument. "Ambrose was in the hallway—he's going to fetch Mr. Raw right away. Come, quickly, lets get DG out into the parlor."

Without a word, I followed the Queen out of the bedroom and settled myself on a loveseat, still holding DG. Before _that_ could become an issue, Raw charged into the room, Glitch and—to my surprise—the pooch hot on his heels.

"DG hurt," Raw announced, making a beeline for the sofa I was sitting on with her. "Raw help."

The viewer made quick work of healing her face. The only traces of the deep gashes were three light pink lines that would fade in a few hours. When he pulled away from her, though, Raw's face was clearly still worried.

"Bad things happening. Raw feel something—wrong. Raw not understand." He was looking intensely into my eyes. I nodded slowly and looked around the room, my grip on DG tightening instinctively as I met Ahamo's eyes.

"I think," I started slowly. "That we'd all better sit down and have a little talk."

The older man looked torn for a minute, then his face relaxed. "Perhaps you're right, Mr. Cain." He sent a glance around the room and reached out to grasp the Queen's hand.

Almost half an hour later, we were still no closer to a solution than we had been. In fact, best I could tell, the only thing we'd established for sure was that we didn't know _anything_ for sure. Queen Lavender, Glitch—who miraculously managed to stay pretty focused—the pooch, and the Royal Consort spent well over half of the time just arguing about DG's power in general.

It was over my head, but I understood enough to realize that no one seemed to be able to explain how she'd managed to control her light well enough to shield her sister's mind like that when just a day ago she'd had trouble making a doll spin or directing a compass. Consensus was, DG's power was growing and awakening much faster than they'd expected. They thought it might be because of her contact with the emerald, but no one seemed to know for sure if that was true or if it was something to worry about or not.

By the time they finished bickering about that, I was thinking DG had the right idea staying unconscious. I'd worried at first that she'd been out of it too long, but a quiet touch from Raw assured me that, "DG resting—healing. Tin Man help."

That earned me an odd look from the Queen, but her attention was diverted when conversation turned to what they'd taken to calling "The Undoing." They'd barely gotten into the meat of that topic when I felt DG stir. I realize she was awake a few seconds later, but decided not to share the information with anyone else just yet.

A bit later, though, she stiffened without warning, and that was enough to alert the fur ball. He swiveled his head towards us.

"DG awake."

"She has been for a few minutes," I replied reflexively, unable to stop myself from reaching up to brush aside a lock of hair that had fallen over her forehead.

Her eyes popped open, and when she spoke her voice was indignant. "How did you know?"

Recalling our conversation this morning, I couldn't resist teasing her back. "You can't fake me, Kid. I'm just that good."

Something I couldn't identify flashed across her face, and felt heat coil in my stomach in response to it as I recalled her embarrassment at our conversation this morning. I was going to have to find out what it was that had her reacting so oddly, but not now. Now, we had more important things to address.

DG obviously agreed, because she pulled herself into a sitting position. I relaxed a little when she made no move away from me.

"So, what's an Undoing?"

Her blunt question was met with startled silence—I guess DG's unique approach threw the brain trust tackling the problem for a loop. But I think it was safe to say that the answer, delivered in a weak voice from across the room, was even more surprising than the question.

"It's a polite way of saying that the O.Z. is dying."

Heads swiveled and jaws dropped.

"Azkadellia darling, what are you doing out of bed. You need to rest; you—"

The oldest princess was leaning heavily on the doorway, but she apparently had enough strength to stand up to her mother. "No, Mother. I need to help—while I can."

I felt DG scrambling to get off my lap, her voice when she spoke was urgent. "Cain, will you help Az?"

Before I could answer, much less move, Ahamo was on his feet. "I've got her," he replied in a rush. Hurrying across the room, he took her arm and supporting her led her to the chair he'd vacated. She sank into it gratefully.

I was working hard to keep my face blank, and I hoped I was doing a better job of it than everyone else in the room. Asleep, Azkadellia had looked shrunken, weary. Awake, she was a frightening ghost of herself. I didn't realize I was holding on to DG's waist until she pulled away from the light grip.

She was shaky when she got to her feet, and I tensed to catch her if she fell again. She managed to stay upright, though and sat down at cross-legged at the foot of the chair Azkadellia occupied.

"Az what are you talking about?" DG asked gently, reaching out and gripping her sister's hands. I was surprised to see a tiny glimmer of white light spark between them.

Az swallowed heavily. "No q-questions. I don't know how long what you did before will last, so I have to get the out quickly."

"I don't—"

"_Please_, DG, just listen to me." Dark brown eyes met and held deep blue ones, and it looked to me like they'd forgotten the rest of us were here.

DG pressed her lips together and nodded, and looking relieved, Azkadellia spoke in a rush. Her voice was reedy but held a surprising note of steel.

"When the witch took possession of me and then the throne of the O.Z., she didn't realize the true extent of the magic she was tampering with," the princess paused thoughtfully and licked her lips. "Well, that might not be true—she may have realized it, but she didn't realize the calamity of what could happen as a _result _of it."

"Why—"

"Why doesn't matter, DG," Az said impatiently. "Only _what_ matters. With mother's light gone, yours in another dimension, and mine tainted, the O.Z. began to undo—to die. That's what they mean. The witch didn't realize it until I—she—destroyed Finaqua, and when she did, she still didn't understand what kind of chain reaction she'd started. Later, when she finally did, she brought me to the surface to try to find a solution. That's how I know the little I can tell you."

"The Fields of the Papé, the Northern Palace—those she destroyed on purpose. But then other things of magic that she _didn't_ want harmed began to die out as well. We studied the ancient texts, looking for some clue, some idea of what to do."

Az paused suddenly, a spasm of pain flitting across her face. "Az?" DG asked, going up on her knees. I felt myself leaning forward in response, ready to help if I was needed, but the older princess was shaking her head.

"No—it's alright. The witch thought with the power of the emerald she could stop the avalanche, but she was wrong. Non-Gale magic of that strength did just the opposite—it made things worse. I felt it before you—" She broke off again and licked lips that looked painfully dry and cracked, much more so than they should have been after just one day. "If The Undoing can't be stopped, then everything of magic in the O.Z. will die."

Her voice grew distant. "It's started already with the two of us. In me because of how diminished my light already is, it's sapping my strength, eating away at what magic I do have and using the nightmares against me."

"But I don't feel any—"

"What it's doing to you is worse, DG, or it will be. But maybe—just maybe—it's happening that way for a reason. As the only acceptable Gale heir left, the O.Z. is flooding you with power."

"Flooding me with power? But how can that be a bad thing?"

"Magic doesn't just happen at once, little sister. It grows slowly, and so does your body's ability to conduct it. It's one of the reasons the witch had to live in my body for three years before she could overthrow mother. She had to wait until I was ready. Already, you're doing things you shouldn't be able to do. Soon, you won't be able to stop yourself from using your gift, and as your power grows, the price the magic exacts from you when you use it will grow, too, until at some point, it demands your life."

I dimly registered the horrified gasps and whispers of denial from the other occupants of the room, but the roaring in my ears was too loud to make out exactly what they were saying. DG dead? No. It couldn't happen. I wouldn't _let_ it happen.

Az held up her hand again, breaking eye contact and looking around the room. "You all have to let me finish. I don't have much time, and I don't think I'll be lucid enough to do it again."

She leaned forward, swaying slightly. "If the O.Z. is to have any chance of survival, you have to figure out how to stop this. You have to, DG, or eventually every man, woman, child, and creature that makes its home here will _die._"

Tears were running down DG's cheeks. "But how?"

Az shook her head sadly. "The witch didn't know, DG, and neither do I. Before this happened, you had the potential to be the most powerful Gale in the history of the O.Z. It's why the witch needed _you _to let go. She wouldn't have been powerful enough to control you as your gift developed. Now—with this new power—I can't even imagine what you're going to be able to do. If you can strike a balance—if you can use what the O.Z. is forcing on you without—hurting—yourself too badly, maybe you'll be able to save us."

Azkadellia shuddered again, and her eyes lost focus for a minute before she continued.

"But the reaction to the magic isn't the only thing you have to worry about—you'll have enemies, Deej. The allies of the witch will be coming for you. They won't know or care about the undoing. I don't know if this will help, but m-most of the Longcoats served the Sorceress out of fear and because of the bond they felt to the House of Gale. If you—"

This spasm, Azkadellia couldn't ignore. A strangled gasp choked out of her throat, and Queen Lavender lurched to her feet, grabbing her older daughter's hand, fear evident. Raw howled and lurched backward off of the sofa, covering his head and the onslaught of—whatever emotion Az was fighting to hold back.

"I'm s-sorry, DG—I can't fight it any longer," she panted.

DG was on her feet now, too, clutching her sister desperately. The rest of us were crowding close to them.

"Az! Tell me how to help you, Az, please! I can't lose you—not again,"

"Put me—" Gasp. "To." Wheeze. "Sleep."

"Put you to—"

"It's the only way, DG," She choked and shuddered, hands clawing at the air again. "Deep asleep—magic won't be able to—find me. For. Awhile."

"I don't know how," DG whirled around desperately her wild eyes clashing with mine, begging me to do something.

Eight years of helplessness in the tin suit couldn't compare with how knowing there was _nothing_ I could do for her made me feel. Then, all at once, I had an idea. Reaching around, I grabbed Tutor by the collar and shoved him into the fray.

"Show her how," I demanded.

He sputtered. "She can't possibly—"

Az was flailing and crying again, sucked back into the vortex of her nightmares. Glitch was holding DG back, the Queen and Consort trying desperately to control their elder daughter. Raw was curled into a rigid ball of pain from the emotional trauma.

Instinctively, I pulled my gun and pressed it to Tutor's temple.

"Now, Pooch."

His eyes widened, but he shook his head. In a move worthy of the best fighters I'd trained with, DG spun out of Glitch's grasp. She whirled on the old man, bringing up hands that were crackling with light. The look in her eyes sent a shot of fear through me, as well.

"Tell me, Toto." Her voice was solid steel and just as cold.

Tutor reeled backward into me, but I held my ground, not letting him move out of the circle of people or away from her. When he realized he wasn't going anywhere, sweat popped out across his forehead, but he finally spoke.

"Mornie Utúlie—call the darkness, DG, and send Azkadellia into it. Utúlie Suan."

I pushed him behind me as soon as he finished, moving to stand as close to DG as I could without touching her. By the flash of understanding in her eyes, I realized that somehow, she knew what the heck all that gibberish meant. The room was positively pulsating with electricity.

Turning back to her thrashing sister, DG caught her hands and held them. "Mornie Utúlie, Azkadellia. Mornie Utúlie. Utúlie Suan, my sister—until I call for you." Then light, deep, soft, and twilight-purple, flowed from DG's hands and wrapped around Azkadellia, gently cocooning her. As it did, the tormented young woman—miraculously—stilled.

The haggard fatigue that had hung on Azkadellia before disappeared, and this time she looked almost angelic in her sleep. It was very faint, but the edges of her skin were throwing off a faint purple light. It looked like the dim glow was surrounding her, protecting her.

The Queen's hands feel away from Az's shoulders, and she looked at DG in shock, her voice a whisper that faded to nothing before she finished the thought. "You did it—you sent her into the twilight. Not in an age—"

I'd holstered my weapon and was ready to catch DG if she fell again after she worked the spell. To my surprise, she seemed steady on her feet. By her posture, though, I could tell that all definitely was not right. Ignoring her mother, the princess turned slowly toward me, and when I saw her face I realized that, no, she wasn't going to faint. Instead, something entirely different had happened this time.

Her beautiful blue eyes were staring sightlessly ahead, focused on a point just over my shoulder. A blood red tear trailed from the corner of one of them down the slope of her cheek.

"C-cain? Cain? I can't s-see." Her teeth were chattering and her voice held a note of panic. She swayed toward me, confused, obviously not knowing exactly where I was, and I instinctively reached forward to catch her arms, pulling her against me.

I felt hot moisture on the side of my shirt and knew that if I looked at the white material, it would be stained red.

"W-why can't I see, Cain?" She asked, sounding lost and terrified.

Oh God.

I buried my face in her hair, fighting sudden tears of my own.

"It's ok, Baby. I've got you now. It's going to be ok."

I'd never lied to her before—I hoped to God I wasn't starting now.

**TBC**

* * *

1 The beautiful but treacherous Valley of Voe  iinhabited by ferocious, invisible bears who come very close to making a full course dinner out of Dorothy and her friends during her third trip to the land of Oz in "Dorothy and the Wizard in Oz."


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: **_Thank you so, so much for the AMAZING reviews. You made my muse very, very happy, so I had to write a little DG/Cain fluff for this chapter. I'm so glad you all are enjoying the story._

**Aftermath –**

**Chapter Six**

_DG's POV_

It was the strangest thing. Tutor said the words, and it was like a door in my mind opened. All at once, I knew what to do. I took Az's hands, closed my eyes, and it was like—breathing. It just came naturally. The magic that flowed out of my hands into her this time wasn't anything like what had happened before when I shielded her mind.

That had been—hot. I saw this special once on the Discovery Channel about natural glass made when lightning struck sand called fulgurite—that's what shielding Az's mind felt like the first two times I did it. It was a blast of electric energy that created a shield of petrified lightning around her brain and kept the dreams away.

Problem with that was that the nightmares ran into the shield and eventually broke it down. Now, instead of a brittle wall, my mind wove a cocoon around Azkadellia that would absorb the impact and protect her for a very long time. As I finished, I felt myself get teary—again. I'd just found her, and now Az was going to be lost to the world for who knew how long. My mind knew it was for the best, but my heart was hurting a bit.

When I stepped away from my sister, I was trilled to realize that I was a little tired, but nothing like I had been when I did the shielding. Then I opened my eyes.

And I still couldn't see.

It took me a couple of seconds to understand what had happened. When I finally figured it out, horrified roaring drowned out the Queen's voice. I blinked fast and furious, trying to get the darkness to leave. I would have rubbed my eyes, but I couldn't seem to make my hands move. I turned around slowly, numb with disbelief.

"C-cain? Cain? I can't s-see." My eyes might not have been working, but my Tin Man radar was operating at full power. He didn't move or answer, but I knew he was close, and then all at once I felt him catch me he pulled me against his chest. At the touch of his hands, the sad tears that slipped out for the temporary loss of Azkadellia changed to panicked ones and started falling faster. I could feel myself starting to hyperventilate and buried my face hard in Cain's chest in an attempt to head it off, dimly realizing that I was shivering.

I wasn't cold—at least, I didn't think I was—but I couldn't seem to keep my voice steady. This couldn't be happening. No way, no how. There had to be another explanation. Maybe while I was doing the hocus pocus stuff they'd just decided to—randomly shut off all the lights in the room. My voice when I spoke didn't sound like my own.

"W-why can't I see, Cain?" There was a long pause while I waited for him to tell me it was a big misunderstanding, but he didn't.

"It's ok, Baby. I've got you now. It's going to be ok."

A shot of ice went through my heart at his words. This was bad. This was really, really, bad. I tried unsuccessfully to control my rising terror. I was going to freak out, and I didn't want anyone else seeing it.

"Cain, can you take me to—"

"DG, what do you mean you can't see?" The Queen's voice was confused, shaken, as she interrupted me. I couldn't have answered her if my life depended on it, and Holy Hell I didn't want to have to deal with her panicking now, too. Thank God, Cain replied for me.

"Your majesty, I think DG needs to rest."

"But she said—"

"Queen Lavender, Mr. Cain is no doubt right," Tutor's voice interrupted. "That's a very powerful spell. Some quiet is certainly in order so she can get her bearings back."

_Don't freak out yet. Don't freak out yet. Don't freak out yet._ I told myself over and over. Pulling every bit of self-control I had in me to the surface, I turned my face just enough so I could speak. "T-Tutor's right, Mother. I'm sorry if I upset you. I'm a little, um, discombobulated from that. I think I need to go back to my room and rest for awhile."

"Discom—DG, I don't understand what you're saying."

There was a rustle of movement, and Glitch's voice piped up helpfully. "Discombobulated—a transitive verb meaning to throw into a state of confusion. It means her marbles are feeling scrambled."

"Er—thank you, Ambrose."

"Always happy to help, Your Majesty. That's what I'm here for," he said cheerfully.

"Shouldn't someone be seeing to Azkadellia," Cain said in a firm voice, effectively changing the subject. "Your Highness, maybe you could take care of getting her to bed while I see DG back to her room."

His hold on me hadn't loosened in the slightest, and I understood what he was doing. He was following Tutor's lead and diverting attention from my little sight problem by giving my parents something else to focus on. I was inordinately grateful to both of them. Who knew which "Highness" Cain had been talking to—the Queen or Ahamo—but either way, if they were dealing with Az, that meant I didn't have to worry about them.

My mother was the one who answered. "Yes—of course. I'll go straighten her bed. Ahamo, you can carry her in when I get back." By the swish of fabric, I assumed that we'd managed to convince the Queen that she didn't need to worry about me.

My attention shifted again when I sensed more movement and heard Raw's growly voice. "DG—"

"Tired," Cain interrupted. "Yeah, the kid definitely needs a nap. Fur ball, do you think you could head downstairs and let Jeb know I'm going to be awhile longer. Have him just keep doing what he's doing until I get there."

There was a heartbeat of silence, but Raw seemed to get the message that now wasn't the time for feeling sharing. "Raw go," he said. I wondered if it was on purpose that he didn't touch me as he left the room. If it was, I didn't blame him. My emotions could not possibly be a happy place to visit right now.

Unexpectedly, Ahamo's voice entered the mix. He'd been so quiet up to now, I'd almost forgotten he were there. "Actually, Mr. Cain, about the men—there are a few more things I wanted to discuss with you. I'll carry Az to her room, and Tutor can get DG settled."

I tensed and clenched my fists into Cain's shirt.

"I think it's more important for us to take care of the princesses right now, Your Highness." Cain's answer was firm. "Whatever you need to talk about will keep for a few hours."

There was a moment of tense—were talking so thick you'd need a chain saw to cut it—silence before Ahamo replied, voice tight. "Mr. Cain, I realize you may have—_paternal_—feelings for DG, but I assure you, I _am_ capable of seeing to the needs of my daughters, and they are, without a doubt, my first priority. _I'll_ take care of the girls—what I need from you is assistance with our defenses."

If my face hadn't been burrowed into a muscular chest, my jaw would have dropped open, and I completely forgot about my eyes.

_Paternal?_ Dear God in Heaven, what _that_ how Cain thought of me? If it was, was my magic strong enough to open up a crack in the floor and make it swallow me whole? I'd been trying hard not to dwell on it, but somewhere along the way, I'd developed feelings for Cain. Sure, I realized they probably weren't going to go anywhere in the _near_ future—I mean, I understood that he was still getting over Adora—but _paternal_.

And the worst part was, Ahamo actually sounded _jealous _about it, like the idea that Cain could have any other kind of feelings for me had never even entered his head. Ok, so he called me Kid. It was a nickname, for God's sake. Cain and I together couldn't possibly be _that _hard to imagine. I for one didn't have any trouble with it at all.

I couldn't imagine how Cain was going to reply—if he said anything to confirm the paternal thing, I would be forced to kill myself—but as it turned out, he didn't have to say a word. My mother's angry voice rang sharply through the room.

"Ahamo! What in the world are you talking about? Now _is not _the time to be possessive. Mr. Cain has helped our daughters—both of them—immeasurably. You should be ashamed of yourself, talking to him that way."

I've heard the phrase "waiting on bated breath" before, but until that moment, I'd never really understood it. Finally, Ahamo answered. When he did, he sounded genuinely apologetic. I guess the Queen's words made him realize that maybe now wasn't such a great time to be cranky.

"You're right of course, Lavender. Mr. Cain, please forgive a father's envy. It's hard for me, knowing another man raised her, to share responsibility for her now anymore than necessary, especially when I can see that she's hurting. The idea of my baby in pain does strange things to my mind, too. It may not seem like it, but I do appreciate all you've done for my family."

There was a heartbeat of silence, and I thought Cain was searching for words. "No offense taken, Your Highness," he finally said.

"Thank you. After all, you probably understand better than most, being separated from your own son for so long. I'm sure you'd feel the same way dealing with another father-figure in Jeb's life. " The air stirred around me, and I felt Ahamo's hand on my back. "DG, you go lay down. Your mother or I will check on you in a little while."

"Thank you, Father. If it's alright, I think I would like to go now." I said. What I was thinking, though, was more along the lines of, "_Father figure_? _Are you insane? Cain is not in any way, shape, or form a father figure to me_." 

Luckily, before my mouth had a chance to seize control of my brain, Cain swung me up into his arms again. I managed not to Eep in surprise. "Zipperhead, get the door," he ordered.

"Sure thing, Cain."

"Cain what are you—"

"Can't take a chance on you falling, Princess. Those marble floors are awful hard. Your Highness, if you have time for me later today, we can have that talk about the defenses."

"Er—yes—Tutor, why don't you go with them and—"

Tutor interrupted Ahamo's uncertain reply, saving my ass one more time. I was pretty sure at this point he was doing it on purpose. "Your Highness, as much as I want to help with DG, I need to start researching these—new developments—immediately. It's very important that you and Queen Lavender stay by Azkadellia's side until we understand exactly how the twilight spell DG used works. It's been a long time since I've even read about it—the mechanics of it are unfamiliar to me."

"Sounds like we all have jobs, then," Cain interjected firmly. And just like that we were out the door. If I could have seen, I'd bet money on the fact that Ahamo looked baffled, like he didn't quite know what had just happened.

I had to give it to Cain, the man knew how to make an exit.

I could feel that he was walking fast down the long hall. I still hadn't chanced opening my eyes again—mainly because keeping my face buried in his shirt was about a thousand times better than the panicky feeling I got when I lifted my lids and saw zilch—but I thought maybe I should say _something_.

Words. Words would be good right now.

 His tone had been light when he spoke to Ahamo at the end, but I could feel that Cain's muscles were taut with worry. That wasn't going to fly with me. Keeping my voice a bare whisper since I didn't know if anyone was near us or not, I tried to break the ice a little.

"You know, if you keep carrying me around like this, people are going to think my legs don't work."

His step faltered slightly, but other than that Cain didn't answer. I wished that I could see his face to know what he was feeling right then. I thought about trying another joke but decided I wasn't brave enough. I would have given a million dollars or, oh, the Emerald of the Eclipse, to know what the heck was running through the Tin Man's mind right then.

Maybe even more than that, though, I wished I could see his face.

Now that I didn't have to pretend for my family, I had time to be afraid again. I thought about the things the Queen told me about a shield, and I thought about how being near Cain had helped me last night. This afternoon, too, probably, but since I was unconscious for most of that, it was only a guess.

I felt Cain stop and shift me in his arms. It felt like he was reaching for something—I was optimistic enough to assume it might be the doorknob to our room—but having some trouble with it.

"Put me down, Cain. I can walk

"DG—"

"No—it's ok, really." I forced myself to turn my face up to him and tried to smile, but I still didn't open my eyes. "Just, don't let got of me, ok? I'm kind of flying blind here, and I don't want to walk into a wall."

Instead of answering, he squeezed me lightly and set me slowly on my feet. I was relieved when one arm stayed wrapped around my waist. I heard the key turn in the lock on the door and realized that must have been what he was having trouble with before. The lock tumbled, and I sensed that Cain pushed the door open.

"Put one foot in front of the other, right?" I joked.

"Seems like a good place to start," he replied, not sounding particularly amused.

My steps were small and tentative, but I made it in the room. I had a mild heart attack when Cain let go of me and pulled the door closed, but I managed not to go all the way into a nuclear meltdown. Ok, so his arm was only away from me for four and a half seconds, but still. It was an accomplishment.

Once we were alone, I felt Cain's tense muscles loosen slightly.

"Lets get you in bed," he said, guiding me firmly toward what I assumed was the mattress.

Without really thinking about it, I resisted him.

"No—I'm not tired. I don't want to lay down."

His voice was a frustrated growl when he replied. "Kid, I'm not going to argue about this. You've had a rough morning, and I think you need a nap."

Now, if he'd said that at a normal time—yes, I realized normal in the O.Z. is a very relative thing—it might have made me roll my eyes and think he was acting like an overbearing doofus, but I probably wouldn't have made a big deal about it. Today, though, the sentence was full of buzzwords like "kid" and "nap" that absolutely infuriated me.

Without really thinking about it, I jerked away from him. "Jesus Christ, Cain! I'm not a _child_. In case you didn't realize it, I'm an adult woman, and I can take care of myself."

In the back of my mind I realized I was overreacting, but knowing in this case didn't equate to doing anything about it. I guess Cain was on the edge and looking for a fight, too, because my words seemed to spark his normally icy temper. He rose to the challenge immediately.

"Really?" He shot back angrily. "And you're obviously doing a damn fine job of it. Last night you could barely stand up, and I find out it's because you're doing magic you have no business trying!"

"I didn't even know I was doing it," I retorted. "It just happened."

"And this morning? Did it 'just happen' this morning, DG? Because I think you knew exactly what you were doing when you grabbed your sister's head—_after_ your mother told you how dangerous it was!"

It occurred to me that my eyes were open and I wasn't seeing all black. Things were dark gray and hazy, but I could make out the blurry edges of Cain's shape. Right that second, though, I was too mad to care. How dare he imply I shouldn't have helped Az.

"I didn't have a choice, Cain! I had to help my sister!"

"You _had_ a choice, Princess. You just chose to rush in without a second of thought to your own safety." He reached out and grabbed my shoulders as he spoke. "Damn it DG, you can't save everyone!" He growled.

"I saved you," I fired back.

"And the idea that you would be foolhardy enough to run into a nest of Longcoats armed with a _stick_ is enough to give me nightmares. Do you have any idea how I felt when you collapsed today? And then when you turned around—" He broke off and shook me lightly. "Do you, DG?"

His voice was rough with something I didn't understand, but it struck a cord in me all the same. I felt hot tears burning my eyes again and struggled to fight them back. "Probably like the stupid kid you think you owe something to needed rescuing—again," I said bitterly. "I've got news for you, Cain. I may be younger than you are, but you are _not_ my father. You aren't responsible for me, so why don't you just go downstairs and leave me alone!"

His fingers bit into my shoulders. "You _are_ my responsibility, Princess, because you're _mine,_ and I'm never going to leave you alone—not now, not ever."

The darkness was lightening further, and I realized I could make out his features now. His eyes were burning hot boring into mine.

"I don't belong to you," I hissed angrily. I knew I was playing with fire right then, but I didn't care. I _wanted _to get burned.

"You will," his words come out sounding like some sort of vow, and before I could react at all, he pulled me roughly against his chest and slanted his mouth across mine.

Shock held me frozen for a heartbeat before my mind wrapped around the fact that the object of my—crush? affection? lust?—was kissing me. I struggled for half a second before I relaxed into the warm softness of his lips. He gentled the action almost immediately, but his arms didn't soften at all. They felt like steel bands wrapped around me, and I reveled in the sensation.

This, this was what I wanted, what I needed.

Softly, Cain played his tongue across the seam of my lips, coaxing them open. I could no more have denied him than I could have kept the sun from rising. His hands moved up my back and buried themselves in my hair. When he swept into my mouth, I arched against him instinctively with a gasp.

"Cain—" My voice was a low, bewildered moan I barely recognized. The things he was making me feel were new, new and wonderful, but a little frightening.

Using his cheek, he nudged my head to the side and trailed kisses down the side of my neck. "It's ok, Baby," he whispered against my skin, sensing my fears and allaying them.

The thought flashed through my mind that Ahamo must be insane—there was _nothing_ 'paternal' in the way Cain said "Baby." Then he started sucking lightly at the sensitive skin where my neck met my shoulder, and I couldn't think at all. I realized dimly that I was clutching handfuls of his shirt, but I couldn't make myself let go.

I have no idea how we ended up stretched out on the bed, but Cain's mouth had moved back up to mine, so I didn't really care. He was lightly nibbling on my bottom lip when I realized he was slowly pulling away. The disappointment I felt was crushing, to say the least.

With one last nuzzling caress, he rested his forehead on mine for a second and then rolled away, one arm thrown across his eyes. The only sound in the room was the harsh rasp of our breathing. It actually took me a second to realize that my sight was back—who knew the passionate haze they talked about in romance novels was a real thing.

Go figure.

I wondered what else showed up in those things that might not be entirely fictional.

My mind was revving about a thousand miles per hour, but Cain didn't seem at all inclined to speak. I wondered what he was thinking. Had he touched me just because he was angry? Had he _wanted_ to kiss me, or did he just want to shut me up? What was he feeling now?

My blood ran cold when the idea that maybe he'd been picturing Adora when he touched me entered my mind. Maybe that always happened when they had arguments. Maybe—I couldn't take it anymore. I had to talk.

"Uh, Cain?" I asked tentatively and waited for a response.

Nothing.

Feeling suddenly self-conscious, I started to edge away from him. He was regretting it. I _knew_ he was regretting it. Maybe it had been a bad kiss. Maybe I wasn't any good at it. I hadn't dated that much in high school, but I wasn't totally without experience. I'd never gone all the way, though. For some reason, it just never felt right.

Later, when I started college, I'd been so busy balancing work and school and helping on the farm that I hadn't had time to think about a serious relationship.

The—physical—activity I'd had with guys had never gotten me any complaints, though. But that didn't mean anything. Those were _boys_—Cain was a _man_. I had a feeling his experience was way out of my league. The more I thought about it, the more convinced I was that I'd managed to do something really stupid.

I was pathetic—a 21 year old virgin who'd never gone beyond heavy petting. Obviously, Cain hadn't particularly enjoyed making out with me. My flight instinct kicked in all at once—I needed to get out of here. I started to edge my way off the bed, but before I could move more than a few inches, Cain's arm snaked out and wrapped around me, pulling me against him.

"Where do you think you're going?" He asked, curious. My mind went totally blank. It might have been funny, if it hadn't been happening to me. Honestly, though, I didn't know where the heck I _was_ going. Luckily, before I could answer, his eyes widened a little, and he smiled, completely changing the subject. "You can see again."

The rare sight of my cranky Tin Man smiling was enough to distract me from anything else. It melted my heart and—apparently—loosened my tongue.

"Yeah, thanks to you."

I realized my mistake as soon as the words went past my lips.

His expression changed to a scowl. "Thanks to me? What do you mean?"

Well just Hell. This so was not a conversation I wanted to get into right now. How do you tell a man that you're pretty sure your magic has drafted him into a human battery charger?

**TBC**


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: **_Not mine, not making any money. OMG—thank you SO MUCH for the amazing reviews. You guys are wonderful and fantastic. _

Aftermath –

**Chapter 7**

_Wyatt Cain._

_You. _

_Must._

_Stop._

The voice—I was pretty sure it was my conscience, but it actually sounded disturbingly like Glitch—was screaming in my head.

I couldn't though. I'd been keeping my emotions locked under steely control since the second I pulled her into my arms in her family's room, but I couldn't do it anymore. She'd taken one too many foolish chances with herself. It infuriated me.

And it terrified me.

I didn't even realize what I was doing when I kissed her. I just knew I had to touch her, had to show her how important she was—to the O.Z., to me—too important not to take care of herself. If something happened to DG—

I forced the thought from my mind. Dimly, I heard myself growl as I pushed her onto the bed. She was fine—she was just fine. DG's body was slim and lithe under mine. So small it made me afraid of my own strength. I captured both of her hands in one of mine and held them above her head as I feasted on her willing mouth. The bones of her wrists were delicate, and I knew I could snap them with a flick of my hand if tried.

She arched against me, and her breasts, high and firm, pressed into my chest. DG was mine now, in this moment. It had been eight years, but a man never forgets the way it feels to make a woman lose herself in him. With her, it would be even easier because she didn't have any experience dealing with real passion—if I hadn't already known that instinctively, the uncertainty in her voice when she said my name would have told me. She wouldn't have any idea how to defend herself from the weapons of sensual assault I could use against her.

And dear Ozma, how I wanted to do that—to slowly peel away her clothes and spend the rest of an eternity touching, tasting, worshiping every inch of her petite body before I buried myself inside her. But I couldn't. Not yet. Not like this. So I slowly pulled back from her, fighting back a groan as I did and taking one last, small nibble of her lush bottom lip.

No, I didn't want to, but I rolled away because I couldn't trust myself to keep touching her and not take advantage anymore than I already had. The image of her writhing against me came unbidden to my brain—advantage or not, she'd been enjoying it—and I laid an arm across my eyes to try to block the vision

_You should be ashamed of yourself! _Mental-Glitch berated me. _DG is hurting and confused, and you're acting like a boy on his first visit to the Sin District. _

As much as it pained me to admit it, I knew the voice—my conscience—was right. No matter how willing she'd been, I'd taken advantage of DG when what she needed from me was support and understanding. Hells, I'd practically attached her. Guilt weighed down on me. DG was vibrant and beautiful, no question about it. But she was also achingly young and naïve. Sometimes her inner strength made it very easy to forget that. I was _supposed_ to be protecting her, not adding more confusion to a life that had already been turned upside down.

My feelings—especially in light of what might be happening to the O.Z.—were secondary. I took another breath. It didn't really help. I was painfully aware of the woman lying beside me. I was still breathing deeply, trying to get control of myself, when I heard her speak. Her voice was uncertain and childlike and made me feel like an incredible bastard.

I knew I needed to answer her, but I didn't have the faintest idea what to say. _I'm sorry I jumped you like a wild animal, princess, but it's just that I want you so damn badly I can't control myself. _Not a chance.

I was still formulating a response when I felt her start to move further away from me. That was unacceptable. Lightning fast, I reached out and pulled her back down on the bed.

"Where do you think you're going?" I demanded. There was a long pause, and her eyes darted around desperately. I wondered if she thought she was going to find the answer to my question written on one of the—realization dawned. "You can see again." Relief rushed through me, and I could feel myself smiling.

"Yeah, thanks to you," she replied softly.

The answer thundered through my brain. Thanks to me. What was she talking about? I looked down sharply and saw that the color had drained from her face, and her eyes had gone wide. Something wasn't right.

"Thanks to me? What do you mean?"

We were lying side-by-side, her body plastered to mine, but I'd pulled away enough to look down into her face. At my question, she started to squirm. I understood that she was trying to move away, but the movement of her body still made me groan.

"Stop that," I said more harshly than I'd intended.

"Why—"

She broke off with a blush, holding herself completely still. I knew she could still feel me against her belly. There was no way she could have missed it. In spite of her blush, her eyes darkened with what I recognized as desire a heartbeat later. She was silent for a long second, and then biting her lip, she met my gaze and very purposely rolled forward a little, pressing her body more tightly against mine.

I sucked in a sharp breath. "Damn it, DG—are you trying to kill me?"

She pulled back immediately, concern replacing desire in her eyes. "I'm sorry, Cain! I didn't mean to hurt you. I didn't know—" She stopped and tried to pull away again.

Talking to women was like trying to navigate China Country. I blew out a heavy sigh and kept my arms tight, not letting her retreat. She wasn't getting away that easily, by Ozma. Something was going on, and I wanted to know what it was.  I looked down again. She was upset. Damn. Clearly, she wasn't entirely inexperienced with men—my blood boiled a little at that thought—but she wasn't entirely confident, either. I chose my words carefully.

"DG, you didn't hurt me. It's just har—er—_difficult_ for a man to stop, sometimes. Especially when he's with a woman like you."

She looked up shyly. "Oh. W-why did you stop? I d-didn't want you to."

I closed my eyes and kissed her forehead. "Because it wouldn't be right, Baby."

I felt her body stiffen. "Why wouldn't it be right?"

"There are a lot of reasons," I started, voice cautious.

She was pushing away from me again, and this time I let her go. She rolled to the edge of the bed but didn't move to stand. When she spoke again, her voice was shaky and apologetic.

"I'm sorry for pushing you."

If she'd grown a second head, it couldn't possibly have taken me more by surprise. "Pushing? Me? Kid, what are you talking about?"

"I've been—clinging—to you, and it isn't fair. It isn't right."

Unable to help myself, I edged closer to her. It felt like someone shoved a shard of ice through my heart when I reached out and touched her back and she flinched. "Kiddo, you've got it backwards. _I _pushed _you_. I—you—_no_." I felt a wave of frustration when my brain refused to produce the right words. I wondered if that's what Glitch felt like.

"You don't understand." She sounded absolutely miserable. If someone else had made her sound that way, I would have hunted him down and shot him. In this case, it really wasn't an option.

"Then make me understand."

She just shook her head silently.

I continued rubbing her back in long, slow strokes, trying to decide what to say. Finally I settled on, "The idea of something happening to you is pretty hard for me to take."

"I _told_ you that you don't have to be responsible for me, Cain." Her voice was muffled and sad.

"I know I don't have to—I want to."

 "Why would you want that? I'm a mess," she said forlornly.

For some reason, that made me smile a little. I stopped rubbing her back and pulled her gently backwards. My arms weren't tight this time. She could have wiggled away if she'd wanted to, but she let me drag her back against my chest. I buried my face in her hair and smiled against her scalp.

"Yeah, but you're my mess," I said

She was still for a second, and then a heard a snort of reluctant laughter. "I think I should be insulted.

"You can be insulted later. For now, why don't you tell me what you meant about feeling better because of me?"

"Um, would you believe me if I told you it was just a figure of speech?"

"Don't think so, Kiddo. I know you too well. What's going on in that head of yours?"

DG drummed her fingers on the pillow beside her. "I'm really not sure about anything. Probably it would be better if we just sort of tabled this discussion for awhile."

"DG," I warned.

She sighed.

"Ok, but remember, I don't know much about it, or if I'm even on the right track, or—"

"Are you going to spend all day talking around this or are you going to get to it?"

She elbowed me in the stomach, and I took that as my cue to be quiet. She licked her lips—which did nothing to help my barely-tabled libido—and spoke, voice hesitant, like she wasn't exactly sure where to start.

"The Queen and I were—talking—in Az's room today. She was pretty surprised about the fact that I wasn't having more trouble recovering from helping Az last night."

I tightened my grip a little. "Don't think I'm going to forget about that, Princess. You should have let me know how much that took out of you—"

She interrupted before I could finish scolding her. I decided I could come back to it pretty easily as soon as she finished. "I _was_ totally wiped out when I was looking for you, but as soon as I saw you, I felt about a thousand times better."

"You should have waited," I pressed.

 "That's just it—now don't get upset, Cain. I mean, it's probably just a coincidence, but the thing is, there's a very small chance that my magic might possibly have decided to sort of—latch on to you."

I felt a wave of confusion. "You want to run that by me again?"

"I, um, don't actually understand it very well, but according to the Queen using our magic takes a lot of energy, and all of us find a shield thingy to—help—with that." She trailed off. "Like I said, I don't really understand it. It's probably not really a big deal, anyway, but I think being around you helps me sort of recharge after I use my magic. Maybe. Possibly."

My mind was racing. I knew a little bit about magic from serving on the Mystic Man's protection detail, but this—this was far beyond my experience. On the surface, though, it didn't seem like anything to get too worked up about. To me, it just sounded like another way I could protect DG, and I couldn't see anything wrong with that.

"Ok."

DG twisted her head around and looked at me. She'd had her eyes squeezed tightly shut like she was expecting an explosion of some sort. Only one of them was open now, but from what I could see, it was confused. "Huh?"

I shrugged. "I said, 'Ok.' If I'm your magical doohickey that's fine."

The princess' eyes went wide. "Are you serious?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Cain, if that's true it means you could be stuck with me. Like, forever stuck with me. Your life has been on hold for _years_ already. This—thing—would be just like another tin suit. You'd be—trapped."

Unable to help myself, I caught DG's chin. "I hadn't planned on going anywhere, Kid."

"But your life—"

"Eight years ago, my life ended. I'm never going to get it back, DG, and there's no use living in the past. When you let me out of that suit—you gave me a second chance. A new life, and I've been hoping you'd want to be part of it."

She froze and looked at me with huge eyes. "Part of it how?"

I shrugged. "However feels right."

There was a long moment of silence, and then DG's voice, tentative and soft. "Would you kiss me again?" Her fingers brushed my cheek, and I had to fight not to turn my face into the caress.

"Why?" My voice was hoarse with need.

"Because it feels right."

"DG—"

"Please, Cain."

I closed my eyes and lowered my head. My lips were almost touching hers when I spoke. "I shouldn't." I bumped my nose against hers lightly. "This is a very bad idea."  I could feel DG's panting breath falling feather-light against my skin. It _was_ a bad idea. But maybe, if I could control myself, a little more would be all right. The keyword, of course, was 'if.' DG held herself perfectly still as I let my hand skim up her side and come to rest underneath the swell of her breast.

_Take it slow, Tin Man. _I told myself. _You're showing her just a little—don't lose control._

"A very bad idea," I said again softly.

"I-it doesn't feel like a bad idea." Her lips brushed mine as she spoke, her voice a bare whisper. "It feels—good."

I turned my hand and cupped her breast in it, letting my thumb skim lightly over her nipple. I could feel it taut through the fabric of her shirt. "How does this feel?" I battled to keep my voice even.

"Th-that feels good, too."

"Only good?" I asked as I twirled my thumb, squeezing my hand very gently.

DG sucked in her breath. "Cain—"

"Only good?" I persisted.

"Nooo—"

Her lips were parted slightly, begging me to kiss them, but I ignored the silent request. Instead I gently nudged her head to the side and whispered to her as I continued the caress. "How does it feel, Baby?" I sucked the lobe of her ear into my mouth and nipped lightly at it, smiling when she shuddered in my arms.

"Please—"

I let my lips curve upward again, happy with her reaction, and began kissing my way down the side of her neck. She tasted sweet and womanly and magical. I sucked lightly at her pulse point and was rewarded when she moaned my name. I felt her hand on my chest and reached up, plucking it away. DG opened her eyes and looked a question at me.

"There's only so much a man can take before he loses control, Baby."

"But I want to—"

"Not now—now is just for you." Before she could protest, I laved the hollow of her throat with the flat of my tongue and smiled against her skin when she gasped. Raising my head, I finally took her mouth again. The kiss was purposely soft and sweet. I coaxed her lips open, and she cooperated eagerly. As I claimed her mouth, I pushed open the buttons on her shirt one at a time. I didn't part the fabric yet.

"Is this alright?" I asked softly, pulling away from her lips. I knew how far I was willing to take this, but I wouldn't go further than she was comfortable. "I'll stop whenever you want me to."

"Not yet," she begged, eyes cloudy. "Please, don't stop yet."

I felt myself smiling again. "Not yet," I agreed and pushed the material of her shirt off the sides of her body. Her breasts were as beautiful and perfect as I knew they would be. Pert and firm, they weren't large, but they were exquisite—milky white with petal-pink tips that called to a primitive, masculine place inside me.

I raised my hands and covered them with my palms, making light circles with the tips of my fingers. DG writhed against me in response. "More," she begged softly.

"Tell me what you want," I ordered, not increasing the pressure of my hands at all. I didn't know for sure how new this was to her, but it was vitally important to me that she be in control of the things I was doing to her.

"I-I want—"

"It's ok, Baby—just tell me," I coaxed.

"I want—your—mouth—on me."

_Yes_. That's what I wanted, too—what I needed. I leaned forward and kissed her collarbone. "Here?" I teased. I was testing myself as well as her, seeing how far I could push myself without losing control.

"Cain—"

"Or maybe here?" I licked the outer edge of her breast.

"_Cain_—"

I decided she'd had enough teasing and finally brought my mouth to her nipple, closing it around the bud and drawing on it. This was as far as I planned to take her right now, but I wasn't ready for the sweet torture to end just yet. Edging down, I buried my face between her breasts and went back and forth between them, using my hands and mouth alternately to lavish affection on them. DG's hands tangled in my hair, and she whimpered as she moved restlessly underneath me.

"So beautiful," I whispered long minutes later as I pulled reluctantly away. Bringing the open sides of her shirt together, I slid back up the bed. This time I didn't pull away from her. Like it was the most natural thing in the world, DG nestled against my side, her head in the hollow of my shoulder. She didn't move to button her shirt, and I played absently with the ends of her hair as we laid together in silence. Trying to bring our bodies back under control.

We'd been in her room for nearly an hour, and I knew she was all right now, and that it was time for both of us to get up and face reality again. But not yet. Not _quite_ yet. I lost myself in thought, considering the woman in my arms. I'd never felt about anyone the way I felt about her. Not even close—not even Adora.

Adora.

It was strange—to the rest of the world, my wife had been dead only a couple of months. But to me she'd been gone for eight annuals. I had grieved for her—spent long days and nights doing nothing _but_ grieving for her. When I found out she might really be alive, I'd felt great joy, but also a crushing sense of guilt because even then I realized that I felt something more for DG than was right if it turned out I was still a married man.

One of the greatest regrets of my life was the fact that I hadn't always been a good husband to Adora. We'd married young and out of necessity. She'd hated life in Central City, and I'd resented her for the pressure she put on me to leave it. When she told me she was taking Jeb and leaving the city, I hadn't argued with her. I'd been almost relieved to know that the constant fighting was going to come to an end.

It took me almost dying to learn to appreciate what I had. I was working the Mystic Man's protection detail and there had been an ambush. I took three bullets. It was a sheer miracle I didn't bleed out lying in the street. When I woke up, the Mystic Man was sitting beside me.

"Wyatt Cain, you are a very lucky man," he announced.

In more pain than I'd ever felt before, I could barely make myself answer. "Why do you say that?"

"Because you're one of the rare ones—you have a second chance at life. What are you going to do with it?" Then he disappeared. But his words didn't. They echoed in my head for days. Lying in that hospital bed, all I could think about was my wife and son.

Jeb was a little over two annuals old. I hadn't seen him in months, and when I had, he'd hardly recognized me. Adora had been stiff and unresponsive in my arms, as well, the last time I visited them—not that I could blame her. She wasn't an idiot. She knew.

I healed, and when I did I told the Mystic Man that I needed some time. He smiled knowingly and told me to go get my family back. I went to the cabin a changed man. When I asked Adora to come back to Central City with me, she'd looked at me warily.

"What will you do if I say no?" She asked.

"Then I'll stay here with you," I replied, utterly serious. "I won't lie to you—things in the city aren't going well. Tin Men are needed more than ever, but I won't leave you again."

There was a long moment of silence, and then she held out her hand, smiling tentatively. "When do we leave?"

Much more than the morning we'd said our vows, that was the first day of our marriage. I'd been faithful to Adora from then on, and if she'd been alive, I would have greeted her joyfully and locked any new feelings I might have had for the princess away, never to be acknowledged again. But she hadn't been, and as I said my final goodbyes to her, I knew she would have wished me only happiness.

Happiness. It had only been a little over a week, but somehow that concept, for me at least, had become inexorably linked with the young woman in my arms. Realistically, I knew the idea of a life with DG was the next closest thing to impossible. Insurmountable obstacles stood in our way—there was her station, the difference in our ages, and more.

But for now, I couldn't make myself care. I just wanted to hold her in my arms and pretend that I believed in happy endings.

I was falling in love with a princess.

I felt her stir against my chest and look up at me.

"Deep thoughts?" She asked with a soft smile.

"About you," I answered easily.

DG laughed. "Then good thoughts, I hope."

Feeling all at once like I was 20 annuals old again, I let myself leer down at her. "Only good?" I teased, repeating my words from earlier.

DG blushed and rolled her eyes. "You are terrible."

I shrugged lightly. "There are probably some empty cells left in the witch's dungeon. I guess you could lock me up and throw away the key."

Moving faster than I knew she could, DG rolled on top of me and sat up, straddling my abdomen. Her open shirt provided me with a tantalizing view before the fabric fell back together. My stomach tightened.

"DG," I warned.

"Hush." She leaned forward and pressed her finger to my lips. "I think you're going to require punishment much harsher than the sorceress' dung—"

The sharp triple-wrap of knuckles on the door interrupted whatever she might have said.

**TBC**

* * *

A region in the Quadling Country that is inhabited by people and things made of china, and it is surrounded by a high also made of china. Dorothy and her friends pass through this country en route to find the palace of Glinda the Good, in "The Wonderful Wizard of Oz. Sadly, they cause some damage to its inhabitants.


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Notes: **_Wow, this has been a looooog hiatus. What can I say? I have an 8-month-old daughter, and it's not easy to find time to write. Thank you so much for the amazing reviews. I'm blown away by how kind you've all been about this story. I recently re-watched Tin Man and am once again feeling inspired to work on this piece, so I drug out my outline and tapped out a chapter. I hope it's not too rusty. If this chapter goes well, I'm tentatively planning regular updates again—I HATE leaving things unfinished._

**Aftermath – Chapter Eight**

_DG's POV_

Cain was out from underneath me and off the bed before I could even blink. We're talking warp speed. It was enough to give a girl a complex.

There was a second of silence, and then another knock, this one sounding significantly less patient—like whoever was doing the knocking was about three seconds from opening the door.

"Washroom—go get yourself—tidy," Cain whispered, tone urgent as he made vague gestures in the direction of my hair. I might have argued, but he was shoving me through the bathroom door and closing it behind me before I had time. And just like that, I was alone. I gave a rueful shake of my head.

Cain had made me feel—wow. Yup, wow. That was the best way to describe it.

My past sexploits had been limited, sure, but I'd learned a trick or two of my own. Once I had him underneath me, I'd been eager to show the Tin Man that I could give as good as I got. _Really_ eager. Talk about bad timing.

I shivered and pulled the sides of my shirt tightly around me. _Plenty of time for reciprocity_, I promised myself. I couldn't hear any sound coming from the bedroom, but the knocking had stopped. I assumed that meant one or the other of us had a guest, and since it was technically my door under attack, I was willing to bet it was me.

I hurried to the mirror and winced when I looked in it. Yikes. _Not _looking my best on so many levels. What I wouldn't give for some concealer. The bags underneath my eyes were big enough to carry my entire wardrobe. Ok, so I technically only owned one outfit right now—but still.

My lips and hair were slightly better—they might even balance out the dark circles and pallid skin—if Cain were going to be the _only_ one seeing them. Pink and a little swollen, it was pretty clear what my mouth had been doing for the last 45 minutes or so, and a team of trained professionals armed with hot rollers and a small fortune in styling products couldn't do a better job of giving my hair that I-Just-Rolled-Out-Of-Bed-And-I-_Wasn't_-Sleeping look.

I took 60 seconds and did the best I could. The hair I tamed, the lips I licked and decided to pretend like they looked chapped, but the glow in my eyes I couldn't do anything about at all. Maybe Cain was my Shield, maybe he wasn't, but spending time alone with him was _definitely_ good for my mood.

I hustled out of the bathroom expecting to find Glitch, Raw, Tutor, or even—please God, no—my parents waiting to talk to me. Instead, Jeb Cain was standing beside the door, rubbing his temple, looking like he was having a very bad day.

"—understand, and I'm really sorry. I just—I'm in over my head here, and there isn't anyone else. I wouldn't interrupt if it weren't important—," He broke off and coughed when he caught sight of me. "Oh. Your highness, I—"

I rolled my eyes. "DG, remember?" I interrupted, hustling over to stand beside Cain. "Your highness makes me think of Prince Charles, and believe me, if you've ever seen him that is _so_ not a good thing." Jeb was looking confused again; I got that a lot. Instead of waiting for him to figure out how to reply, I continued. What can I say? Patience is overrated. "So what's up? You look like it's been a long day, and since it's only—" I looked around for a clock but didn't see one, so I decided to just go with a time range, "—like the nines, that's saying something."

More silence from Jeb, accompanied by a helpless look at Cain.

Hm. Someone really needed to teach the Cain men how to speak English.

"I just needed to talk to Dad about—something," Jeb finally settled on saying. He shot a glance at his father. "It's, uh, not that big a deal."

I raised a skeptical eyebrow. Right. Before I could tell Jeb what a crappy liar he was, Cain spoke.

"Organize them into platoons as they come in—how many of your resistance fighters have military experience?"

Jeb turned his attention back to Cain and ran a frustrated hand through his hair. "Not many. Why do you think I ended up in charge?"

Cain's voice was steady when he replied. "Because you knew what you were doing and you did it well—don't start questioning yourself now, son."

Jeb shook his head and shot me a glance. All at once I felt like I was intruding, and I looked down and took a step away to give them at least a little privacy. I racked my brain for an excuse to leave, but I was kind of stuck between a rock and a hard place. I didn't want to call attention to myself making a big exit, but I couldn't just disappear—I didn't have anywhere to _go_ in the room, and they were blocking the freaking door. Before I figured out what to do, Jeb continued.

"You're wrong about that. A lot of it was the fact that my father—who everyone conveniently forgot that I hadn't seen since I was in short pants—was a Tin Man with a reputation that outlived him. It wasn't ever a conscious decision on anyone's part, it just sort of—happened. And I had," he paused and swallowed heavily, "a lot of help from Mom. The men wouldn't take orders from her, only two, maybe three of them even _knew_, but she was the one—"

Jeb broke off, and I could see pain in his face. It was funny—I didn't know him well, didn't know him at all, really, but the times I'd met him he'd seemed much older. Watching him fight to get control of his emotions, I was reminded of the fact that he had to be only about 18 years old—even younger than me.

"Son," Cain touched Jeb's shoulder but didn't seem to know where to go with the sentence after that. Jeb let his father's hand sit there for half a second, then shied away, expression masked.

"Anyway, that's not the point. The point is, I need—and the men are already thinking of you as their commander, anyway because of, well—look, could you just—" He threw his hands up in the air and let out a frustrated growl that went a long way toward wiping out the scared kid image. "Oh for the love of Ozma."

Call me observant, but it seemed like Jeb was having trouble putting what he wanted to say into words. Now, that could be because he's a man and therefore naturally inclined to be both emotionally and verbally constipated, _or_ it could be that there were a few things he didn't want to say in front of me. Probably it was a combination of both, but he was going to have to work on the verbal communication thing later.

Call me intuitive, but I was getting the idea that Cain's presence was needed below. And since best I could tell the O.Z. was on the verge of a complete meltdown, it seemed like a good idea not to let the only thing we had resembling an army on our side fall to pieces.

I decided subtlety was overrated. I looked at Cain and tilted my head toward the door. "As much fun as this father-son bonding thing is, it sounds like reality's calling. Let's head downstairs and tag back in."

Two identical pairs of ice blue eyes blinked at me like I'd grown a second head.

Jeb looked up at his father, eyes wide. "Dad, is she—ok?"

Cain at this point must have been getting used to my mysterious vernacular, because even though he still sounded doubtful, he nodded. "I think so."

I shook my head, disgusted. "Yeesh. You two are killing me. Let's go."

When they didn't seem inclined to move, I linked one of my arms through each of there's and pulled. Being dragged by the elbow by an Ozian Princess surprised Jeb enough that he actually moved. Cain, on the other hand, was about as mobile as a statue. I don't know why I wasn't surprised.

I looked up at him. "What?"

"You're not going anywhere, Princess."

Oh dilemma. What to yell about first—the fact that he called me Princess, and not in a sexy, I-want-to-worship-your-body kind of way, or the fact that he seemed to think it was his job to tell me where I could and couldn't go?

"Excuse me?" If we'd been back in Kansas, people would have been taking big steps back when they heard me use that tone of voice. Apparently people were smarter in Kansas, because Cain didn't even flinch.

"You are not going down stairs with the troops."

Count to ten. Count to ten. Count to—oh, screw it.

"Yes, I am!"

"No, you're not!"

"I am!"

"You're not!"

"Whoa!" Jeb yelled and waved his arms.

Cain's eyes flared. "You, be quiet," he ordered in my direction. "And you," his lips pressed together as he addressed his son, "Give us just a minute, please." He must have thought I was going to argue, because he shot me another warning look right after he said it. I glared up at him but kept my mouth shut, since I'd decided half a second after he told me to be quiet that I was _never_ speaking to him again.

Jeb looked insultingly relieved to leave the room.

The door slammed shut behind him, and I whirled toward Cain. I was trying to figure out how I could tell Cain he was acting like a total jerk without actually speaking when he held up a hand.

"Listen to me for 30 seconds, Kid."

I could feel my teeth grinding against one another, but I nodded. Mostly because it was going to give me another half a minute to work out the not talking problem.

"It's not safe for you to go downstairs—"

Oh the Hell with not talking. I _knew _that's what he was going to say. I just—"Damnit, Cain! I'm not going to hide in this sarcophagus of a room while you—"

"Of course you aren't, but you also aren't going to put yourself in danger," he interrupted. "I asked for 30 seconds."

"Fine, go."

"Things are happening right now that I, for one, don't entirely understand. And I don't think you understand them, either. But from the way your old Tutor acted in your parents' room, I think he might know more than he's saying. Maybe your sister's just babbling nonsense, but I for one think we need to get a handle on the situation. Do you agree?"

So far he'd sounded reasonable, but I wasn't willing to take any chances. I could see him taking advantage of any ground I gave to use as an excuse to lock me up somewhere for safekeeping. "I don't _disagree_," I replied, careful not to commit to anything further. Apparently, that was enough to keep him going.

"We have exhausted resistance fighters keeping things going downstairs. And as more people come in—displaced Long Coats we don't know if we can trust, confused people from the country side, even representatives from other branches of the resistance—things are going to get more hectic, and more dangerous. There are some things we _have_ to do now to get ready for that, and it doesn't look like it's going to get down without my help."

"I can help, too, Cain. I'm not useless." I interjected.

"No, you're not. But you are a distraction." I started to bristle, but Cain continued. "Like it or not, if you're in harm's way the only thing I'm going to be able to concentrate on is you."

"That's not my problem. Deal with it—these are my people, too, right. I _need_ to be there."

"No, what you _need_ to do is look beyond the end of your nose and concentrate on the bigger issue."

"The bigger issue! I don't know anything _about_ magic, or the O.Z., or any Undoing."

"Well you'd better find out, Princess, because if half of what I got from your parents is really happening, it's not going to matter what I do with our troops. You're the only chance we've got. So what's it going to be?"

He looked down at me, a challenge in his eyes, waiting for me to make the right choice.

I knew I never should have agreed to listen.

Thirty-seconds my ass.

I _hate_ admitting I'm wrong.

But sometimes it's necessary.

I blew out a heavy breath and tried to look on the bright side. At least he wanted me to do something useful, not just sit on my hands. "Ok, you might have a point. What do you want me to do?"

Cain smiled warmth lighting his eyes. "That's my girl. You're going to go upstairs and find Tutor."

"Great," I said glumly. "I get to put the screws to the pooch. This would probably be a lot easier if someone had told me to pack my Scooby Snacks when I jumped into that tornado."

Cain frowned down at me. "I—" He started, but broke off and didn't seem to know what to say.

"What?" I demanded.

He shook his head and didn't answer, then paused again to stare down at me. Finally, he half turned toward the door. "I was going to say that I'd love to know what you just said, but then I changed my mind. I think I'm better off not knowing."

I thought about that for a minute. "You're probably right."

"I usually am, Kid."


	9. Chapter 9

_I thought about that for a minute. "You're probably right."_

"_I usually am, Kid."_

I had to fight back a smile at the choked sound DG made behind me. There wasn't much in the world I liked better than teasing her. Well, kissing her. And touching her. And I was pretty sure—_that's enough of that! _

Having Glitch's voice in my head was going to get old quickly, but it didn't seem inclined to go away anytime soon. If my conscience had to pick someone to sound like, there were better choices it could have made. Although I guess there were worse ones, too. It could have sounded like her father. I held back a shudder and forced myself to focus on the task at hand.

The hallway outside our—_her_, damn it—room was cool and quiet. The two guards I'd ordered stationed at the door brought their fists to their chests as soon as they saw me. They were both a few years older than Jeb, but still young, faces clean shaven and eager. I wondered for a second if I'd ever been that young. Right now, it didn't feel like it.

"The corridor is secure, Commander Cain," the one on the right said, voice crisp.

By the way he was looking at me, I knew some sort of acknowledgement was in order. I bit back a sigh. "Excellent work—" I paused, not sure how to address them.

"Grear, Sir. Southern resistance. And this is Michaels." He gestured to the man beside him. "We've been serving under Captain Jeb for two years now, Commander Cain."

At the sound of his name, I glanced to the right, searching for my son. He stepped forward, face a blank mask, and nodded at the guards. "Will the princess be staying here? Grear and Michaels are very trustworthy—"

I managed not to jump when I felt a pair of slender hands on my shoulders and a warm body brushing my back. "Nice to meet you guys. Thanks for guarding the bedroom and everything. Never know what kind of bad guys might be lurking in a busy hallway. Cain, you're blocking the door."

Hammerheads hit me, she felt good pressed against me. Did she know she was driving me crazy? I gritted my teeth and ignored her, keeping my shoulders angled so she couldn't get out of the room yet.

"No. She's going to go upstairs and join Tutor," I said in answer to my son's question. I glanced at Grear and Michaels. "And she's going to need an escort."

As fast as the words were out of my mouth, hands flew to chests, and the guards bowed. "It would be an _honor,_ Sir," Grear, who apparently always did the talking for both of them, said, voice earnest.

Behind me, I felt DG stiffen. I braced myself for her reaction to the news that she was going to have two shadows with her. The issue was nonnegotiable. She was going to have to get used to the idea anytime I couldn't be with her. Maybe not telling her before we left the room had been the coward's way out, but I didn't care. One more fight with her, and I was either going to muzzle her, or throw her back on the bed and find another way to keep her mouth occupied. While either one might have been fun, we really didn't have time for the second option, and the Queen and Ahamo probably wouldn't look favorably on their little girl being gagged.

They hadn't spent enough time with her yet to appreciate the efficiency of the method.

To say I was surprised when, instead of a strangely-worded fit listing the reasons—none of which would have been good enough for me—why she didn't need watching over, DG's voice coming from over my shoulder was calm and surprisingly—friendly.

"Cool. So, do you guys have first names?" She sent them a smile that, from the dazed expressions that came over their faces wasn't just affecting me. All at once it occurred to me that Grear and Michaels were about DGs age. I wasn't an authority on what made men attractive, but there wasn't anything particularly ugly about either one of them that I could see. Before I could think of a reason to change my mind and make Jeb go find two different guards—preferably married ones—she'd taken advantage of my distraction to duck around me and into the hall. She linked her arms through the guards' like she'd known them for annuals and without waiting for an answer about their names and said in my direction, "You'll come find me when you're done?"

It wasn't so much a question as it was a—dismissal. At least, that's how it felt. I clenched my teeth, surprised words even managed to slip out my jaw was so tight when I answered with a terse, "Yes."

Jealousy was a new thing for me. I didn't need practice to know I didn't like it.

DG flashed me another smile, nodded, and then turned her attention back to the men flanking her. She was talking as she expertly turned them away from Jeb and I, guiding them toward the stairs. "So how do you guys feel about animal rights? Are you opposed to rolled up newspapers? Because I have a feeling—"

Her voice faded as they turned the corner, and I realized my fists were clenched when Jeb said a tentative, "Dad?" and gestured toward them. "Are you—ready to head down?"

My, "Yeah," came out more as a growl than a word, but Jeb didn't comment. Smart boy, my son.

We fell into step silently, taking the same route DG and her guards had taken, only turning left to go downstairs instead of right. Envy was still knowing at my gut, but I was gamely trying to focus my mind on the list of problems Jeb had started reeling off before DG came out of the washroom.

I glanced sideways. Jeb was half a step behind me, shoulders straight, head up, expression closed. It jolted me a little when I realized how similar his posture and stride was to mine. He must have noticed me watching him, because his chin rose a notch and he looked back at me.

"Is there a problem?"

I had to fight the urge to reach up and rub my temple. Reconciling the image of him as an eight-year-old boy, running to me and throwing himself at my legs, with the man beside me was enough to make my head spin. It was the height of foolishness, but all at once I wished I _had_ brought DG downstairs with us, and it had nothing to do with jealousy. Dealing with Jeb was easier when she was there. It was like he and I had a common ground—our uncertainty as to how to deal with her. Now, on my own with him, I was at a loss.

"Yeah. Lots of them. Just working out how we're going to solve them."

Jeb paused. "We?"

My frown deepened into a scowl. "Yes, we. I agreed to take command—temporarily, at least—but that doesn't mean—"

"I thought Tin Men usually worked alone?"

I felt a muscle in my jaw clench. "What are you really asking me? Because right now, I don't have time to play games, Jeb."

There was a long moment of silence, and then Jeb looked abruptly away. "Nothing. I'm sorry. Let's just go on down."

He edged past me and started down the stairs at a fast trot. I closed my eyes and sent up a quick prayer. I didn't know who I was asking for wisdom from—maybe Adora. Something was wrong with Jeb—beyond the obvious stress of the situation—but I didn't know what. And I didn't know if I should push him about it now or not. He was half a flight ahead of me now and didn't show any signs of slowing down.

"Hells," I growled in the back of my throat. I clenched my fist again and started after him. I caught up, but we didn't speak again until we hit the first floor landing. I was surprised to see that the situation wasn't near as out-of-control as I'd expected. There was confusion, yes, but it was holding together.

I raised an eyebrow at Jeb. "You're responsible for this?"

He grimaced, and something I didn't understand flashed in his eyes. When he replied, I could hear anger edging his voice. "Look, I did the best I could. I'm not you. If you want to—"

"Son, you're doing well." I interrupted him. My tone was harsher than I meant it to be, but I don't think it mattered. Jeb didn't look like he believed me, and I didn't know what else to say. "Really." I finished lamely, trying to hold his gaze.

"Right." His eyes were fixed somewhere just over my left shoulder. "So, where do you want to start?"

I bit back a sigh but firmed my jaw and put on my Tin Man face, effectively hiding any emotion I might have felt. "Take me to where you're housing the people you freed from the dungeons. Lets see who the witch didn't want getting away from her."


	10. Chapter 10

_Author's Note: Thanks so much for all the AMAZING feedback. I really, really appreciate it. I'm trying to write shorter chapters—about 3,000 words—and update every 10 daysish. This chapter and the next one are going to have—wait for it—ACTUAL PLOT! Let me know if you like the direction it's going. Oh, and I'm a huge Oz fan, so you'll notice a few Ozisms from the books—The Three Pearls, Rinkitink, Pinagree, etc.—are all from the book, "Rinkitink In Oz." _

**Aftermath – Chapter 10**

Angry voices drifted toward us before we made it to the top of the last flight of stairs.

"By Ozma, Ambrose. You have to _concentrate_. This is important!"

"Concentrate! Ha! That's easy for you to say. Your marbles aren't scattered around the tower like, like—like something that's really—scattery!"

"Ambrose." It sounded like more of a growl than a word, and a bubble of choked laughter slipped out before I could stop it. Looked like I wasn't the only one who managed to frustrate the heck out of Tutor.

The bookends on either side of me paused. Then, moving like synchronized swimmers on speed, they stepped in front of me, shoulders closing into sliding doors of muscle that kept me from stepping on to the landing. If they'd gotten a quarter of an inch closer to my nose when they met in the middle, they would have knocked me down the stairs backward.

I bit back a sigh and reminded myself that I was going to be cooperative. I had to do some deep breathing, but I didn't order them to move it or lose it.

When Cain turned to walk out of our room, I'd noticed two things. First, that he was sexy even when he was being a smartass. And second, that even though he was teasing me, his eyes were—burdened.

My father may have been a robot, but Popsicle had lived in the real world working as a Kansas farmer for 15 years. Whoever designed him must have poured their heart and soul into getting the eyes just right because one of my most vivid memories was of the expression in them in months—and there were more than a few of them—when the ends didn't quite meet. I could remember he and Mom sitting at the kitchen table, holding hands across the width of it, and talking about how we were going to manage.

It never failed to make me determined to find a way to help them.

I only got a flash of it before he had his shields back up, but the same tired desperation had been in Cain's eyes for a second. And just like that, I felt like the world's biggest, most obnoxious, most spoiled brat. He'd been pouring everything he had into helping me, and I was acting like an ungrateful jerk, fighting him every time I didn't get my way. If compromising my independence a little bit for the next few days would help Cain, then that's what I was going to do.

Even if it killed me.

Which was unlikely, because even though I didn't think I needed them, at least the two bodyguards Cain picked seemed like good guys. They sort of reminded me of the football players at my school, typical JuCo athletes—long on sincerity but a scoche short on brains.

The voices rose again, and I had to scramble down a step to keep from being knocked on my ass as my guards turned around to question me.

"Princess, are you sure you want to—"

I waved a hand, interrupting Grear. Thus far I'd managed not to ask if Michaels was mute or if Grear had just gotten lucky and gotten to use the voice today—hey, if the Three Fates can share an eye, who says the Two Sentries couldn't share a voice. At this point, though, I was running low on tact.

"It's nothing to worry about. They always do that." I made a shooing motion. "Let's just head on up."

They looked back and forth between one another but didn't show signs of moving.

"Look, you guys can go in the room first and threaten to pull out their fingernails with hot tongs if you want."

There was another silent conversation, then some nodding. And big surprise, Grear spoke again. "Yes, your majesty." His voice was earnest enough to give me a second of worry about Tutor and Glitch, but before I could really get going with laying the ground rules—no calling the dog catcher on Tutor, no commenting on Glitch's coat—I heard a sharp, "Yip!" followed by a howl that sounded suspiciously like Glitch.

I shoved past the Grear and Michaels without really thinking about it and rushed a few feet down the hallway and into an open doorway the commotion was coming from. I wasn't worried about myself, but from the sound of things, it seemed like there was a good chance Tutor and Glitch might kill each other if someone didn't get in there to mediate.

Inside, I found Glitch hopping on one foot, holding his ankle and spouting threats. Tutor has retreated to dog form, and even though he was only 10 inches tall, the growl he was sending Glitch's way would have done a Mastiff proud. He looked like he was five seconds away from making Snausages—or, you know, whatever other tasty treat shape shifting, friends-of-state, little dogs preferred—out of what was left of Glitch's brain.

"What the heck is going on," I demanded as I pushed into the room, my entourage hot on my heels.

"DG! Hey, Doll! How 'ya feeling?"

"Arf!"

I heard my guards clamber in behind me and turned around to flash them a quick smile that I hoped was reassuring. "See, no terrorists. Just a royal advisor and his little dog, too."

Before either one of them—ok, who am I kidding, Grear—could answer, there was a series of squishy pops, and Tutor was back on two legs. Remembering how thrown I was the first time he shape shifted and considering the fact that my guards were armed, I swiveled my head again to reassure Grear and Michaels, but they seemed to be taking it in stride. Surprisingly urbane of them—sort of like New Yorkers finding nothing at all weird about a guy with 17 extra holes in his head and a pair of horns.

"Thank the Grey Gale. Now maybe we can get somewhere. Princess, I'm looking for—"

I cut Tutor off before he could finish. The guys seemed trustworthy, but I figured the last thing we needed were rumors about the Undoing getting out and starting a panic. I've seen enough disaster movies to know that life-as-we-know-it ending information is best kept close to the vest. I mean, just look what happened to poor Jake Gyllenhaal in The Day After Tomorrow. Better safe than trapped in a library while the rest of the country is being evacuated to Mexico.

"Hold that thought, Tutor." I turned to my guards. "Look, guys. I think I'm going to be awhile here, so is there maybe something else you need to be—"

"We'll secure the room and be right outside the door, Princess," Grear interrupted me.

I couldn't keep the sigh inside this time. I'd figured that was what was going to happen. "Are you sure?" I asked again, trying not to sound insultingly eager to get rid of them. "I mean, I'm going to be _right_ here. You could just secure the room, and then go do something—else. There's a bunch of work downstairs, right?"

"No."

Holy crap, he speaks.

Michaels' voice was a deep baritone, and the fact that he actually used his words, er, word, seemed to surprise Grear as much as it did me. He didn't sound like the kind of guy you argued with very ever, so I decided to accept defeat gracefully.

"Ok, then. I guess you should start—securing."

"Watch for the books in the floor while you secure," Glitch piped in, sounding cheerful. "Whoever organized this library wasn't very—organizational."

"It was _your_ library once, Ambrose," Tutor ground out. "The witch had it moved from the Northern Palace when the tower was built."

"Really?" He looked around. "Wow. I had _a lot_ of books."

He wasn't kidding. The room was huge and round, and the entire thing was filled with floor to ceiling shelves so stuffed that books had started piling up into mountains on the carpet. There were big books, little books, books in every color of the rainbow. And there didn't seem to be any rhyme or reason to the way they were shelved. At my shoulder, a massive brown book with gold words I couldn't read carved into the a leather spine was shelved next to what looked like an Ozian comic book called "The Adventures of the Tin Men in Central City." Someone needed to introduce Glitch to our friend the Dewey Decimal system.

"I already told you that _twice_, Ambrose," Tutor was growling again.

"Told me what?"

The guards finished their securing, and ducked out of the library. They pulled the doors closed behind them and looked thankful to do it. I couldn't blame them. Escape sounded like an excellent idea. Too bad it wasn't an option on my menu for the day.

"Told you that this foolish mess of a—"

"So," I interrupted gamely. "What are we hunting?"

"A book." Tutor's voice was flat.

"Gee, I never would have guessed." Ok, maybe that was a little sarcastic, but sometimes I can't help myself. Plus, and I don't know this for sure because I've only been with him for two days, I'm pretty sure Tutor brings out the smartass in me. "Any _particular _book, or can we just say 'Eenie, Meanie, Miney, Mo?'"

"Eanie, Meanie—I'm not familiar with that spell."

Oh good God. Well, at least I'd distracted him from Glitch. Tutor was starring at me and frowning. Lovely. I decided I should probably try to explain. "I—no—it's just a—Hey!" I yelped when Glitch came up beside me and whacked me on the back. "What was that for?" I demanded.

"Oh. I thought you were glitching."

Can princesses growl? I was pretty sure they could. But I managed not to do it. Instead, I forcefully changed the subject back to the topic at hand. "So about that book?"

Tutor rubbed a hand across his jaw. "Ambrose always had a great interest in the ancient Ozian artifacts of magic. He probably had more information on them than anyone else alive."

"Oh yeah? Now that sounds like an interesting hobby, collecting magical doohickeys. I think I could really have some fun with that."

"Ambrose, focus." Tutor turned back to me. "I don't understand much of what your sister said before you used the Twilight spell, but she was right about one thing. Something's—off—magically."

I felt a curl of alarm. "What do you mean?"

Tutor sighed. Beside him Glitch, who'd been gamely stacking books to try to make a path through the chaos, looked up at him.

"The O.Z. is a land of magic," Tutor finally said. "And it's filled with many creatures who rely on that magic for not only their abilities, but their very survival. Shape shifters like me—are one such people. For a long while now, shifting has been getting more difficult. Once I'm in my canine form, it requires an increasing amount of concentration and power to shift back to my human shape. While I was in the witch's dungeon, I thought it was her power making the difference. But based on what your sister said, now I'm not so sure."

I nodded. "In a weird way, that actually makes sense."

"Yes, well, as magical as The O.Z. you know is, it used to be much, much more so."

"Used to be? You mean like before the witch—"

"No, no," Tutor interrupted. "Long before that. Since before even my great-great-grandfather was a pup. Things of magic have been slowly," he paused then, and I thought he was searching for words.

"Dying," Glitch suggested.

"No. Not dying exactly. More like, disappearing. Getting lost. Or just fading away."

The stack of books I was standing next to seemed sturdy enough, and suddenly I felt like I needed to sit down. "You're going to have to be a little less vague, tutor. Fading away?"

Tutor shrugged. "Suffice it to say, they're gone. At this point, many of them have been lost for so long, they've drifted into legend, and we don't know if they were ever real at all."

"You mean like the emerald?" I asked after I'd had a few seconds to chew it over in my mind.

"In the case of the Emerald of the Eclipse, in ancient times, it sat at the crown of the highest tower in Central City—which was once actually called Emerald City. The House of Gale knew it was real, and knew it was powerful and would be of utmost importance. So your ancestors hid it in a safe place and passed the secret down to the queens of their line, but for all intents and purposes, to the people of the O.Z. it was gone. Exactly like that, D.G. Excellent."

I gave a slight eye roll. "Thanks. I guess I had a good teacher. So what other magical goodies do we have hidden and why do we need Glitch's library to help us get to them if the Queen knows where they are?"

Tutor was shaking his head. "You misunderstand. The kings and queens of The O.Z. didn't hide all of the disappeared tools. The House of Gale didn't even have access to many of them—to most of them, really. They were spread around the lands and used by the people to whom they belonged."

"_Okay_. So that means—what?"

"It means that the doohickeys we're looking for are going to be even more scattered than my marbles," Glitch interjected. "Right, Tutor?"

"Right." Tutor's voice was grim.

"Let me get this straight," I held up a finger. "One, we don't know _what_ we're looking for," another finger. "Two, we don't know _where _it is," another finger. "And three, even if we figure out the first two, it might not even exist, period?"

Tutor nodded.

"Crymanilly! And _this_ is the best plan you have?" I threw my hands up in the air. "The O.Z. is doomed. We should just make a huge travel storm right now and all immigrate to Kansas!"

Tutor was staring at his shoes, his expression somber. "I'm sorry, D.G., but it's my only suggestion right now. If would could find something in these old legends that might help us bring balance back to the O.Z.—well, it's a place to start, at least. The witch, as difficult as it is for me to admit, was much wiser in matters like these than I am, and it seemed to be what she was trying to do."

"You know what, I bet the answer is in here—somewhere," Glitch was obviously trying to sound positive, but his voice ended on the wan side of upbeat. He sighed and drummed his fingers on a book. "It's just too bad we don't have the Three Pearls. Now those would be helpful."

Tutor and I raised our heads whiplash fast. We looked at one another. I turned and squatted down beside Glitch, speaking very slowly.

"The Three Pearls?"

"I was just looking through this book—that's my handwriting, see. It looks like I was really fascinated by this Rinkitink character. He seems like an interesting guy—"

"The pearls, Glitch," I interrupted, careful to keep my voice even. The book Glitch was holding maybe the most ancient looking thin I'd ever seen. It reminded me of an illuminated manuscript from ancient Rome I'd seen in a museum once. I was speaking softly, and I realized it was because I was afraid the pages would turn to dust if I breathed on them too hard.

Glitch didn't seem quite as worried about it as I did. He gently lifted a page and turned it as he continued.

*"Oh, well they were gifts to King Kitticut from the Mermaid Queen. There was a pink one, a blue one, and a white one. Prince Inga and Rinkitink used them to save the Kingdom of Pinagree from Regos and Coregos."

"Pearls? How would you use pearls to save—"

"The Pink Pearl protects the person who's carrying it from danger, and the Blue Pearl gives them incredible strength. The White Pearl, though, that's the one we need. It can answer questions and gives wise counsel to its owner."

Stunned silence filled the room for heartbeat, then I was on my feet whooping and laughing. I pulled Glitch up from the floor and into a hug, spinning him around. "Glitch! You're a genius! You did it."

Tutor reached in and snagged the book, setting it on a table and gently looking at the pages. His smile was a mile wide, though, and he was bouncing a little on the balls of his feet. If he'd had a tail at the time, it would have been wagging.

"I am? I mean, of course I am!" He sucked in a big breath of air when I finally let him go. "Er, just to be clear, what did I do?"

"You found something that can help. We just need to get that white Pearl and ask it what's going on, right. Like the Ozian version of a Magic 8 Ball."

Glitch was shaking his head, frowning sadly. "That's a really great idea, D.G., but we can't."

I resisted the urge to smack myself in the head. Why couldn't anything ever be _easy_ in the O.Z. "Can't? Why not?"

"Because the Three Pearls were lost thousands of years ago."

"Lost?"

"Yup. They disappeared."

"Disappeared?"

Glitch frowned. "Are you glitching again? You're repeating everything I just said. Do you need me to whack you?"

"No! I just—"

"Ambrose, where did you find this book?" Tutor interrupted.

"Huh? Oh, on the table. I guess the witch thought Rinkitink was interesting, too."

Tutor had flipped to the last page and was gently tapping a sticky note—good to know the important things like Post-Its bridge even transdimensional boundaries—this isn't your handwriting, is it?"

Glitch looked over his shoulder. "Nope. It's too girly."

"I think," Tutor said slowly. "That the witch was on the same track you are, Glitch."

"Huh. Great minds think alike, I guess."

"Yes, or maybe it's something she got from your brain."

I looked at the note, too. "Adepts? What are Adepts?"

"They're three very powerful fairies who live in the Land of the North. Their powers only work voluntarily, and only when all three of them are together." Tutor said absently, still staring at the note.

"Are they from Pina—whatever? With the Pearls?" I asked.

Glitch shook his head. "Nothing about them in the book."

"Well, the witch clearly thought they might be of assistance in finding the Pearls," Tutor countered.

"So we're going—fairy hunting?" I asked, trying not to sound skeptical.

"We won't have far to hunt. About three months ago, the witch put one of them in the cell next to mine."

My eyebrows rose up and almost popped off my head. "Seriously? That's awes—er, great." I corrected myself so they'd know what I meant.

Tutor sighed and started rubbing his temple. "Great? You've obviously never met Audah."

Was it possible for a black man to go pale?

I studied him for a minute. I guess it was.

Yikes.

I was worried for half a second before I remembered one very important little fact. Audawhatshername had never met me before, either.


End file.
